


Guardian

by LadyWallace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Both Cas and Dean are self sacrificing idiots, Cas and Dean friendship, Cas goes to the Winchesters for help, Cas is a Guardian Angel, Dean and Cas actually talk things out, Dean and Cas get captured, Episode: s08e21 The Great Escapist, Gen, Major Dean whump, No Slash, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean, Sam is sick from the Trials, Season 8 AUs, Sick Sam, Team Free Will, amateur surgery hour, captured/tortured Cas, captured/tortured Dean, episode AU, everything goes to hell, family/friendship feels, lots of blood, major Cas whump, the boys care for Cas, there is a happy ending though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 12:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11646594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWallace/pseuds/LadyWallace
Summary: 8x21 AU-Returning to the Winchesters after having run away with the Angel Tablet, Cas helps Dean in their hunt for Metatron while Sam is suffering side effects from the Trials. Unfortunately, Naomi finds them first and will stop at nothing to get the Tablet even if it means killing Cas and Dean to do so. MAJOR Cas!whump No Slash





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's seriously lots of whumapage and blood in general in this one, so it's definitely not for the squeamish.
> 
> Thanks to Aini_NuFire for betaing this one for me back when I wrote it ^_^

Castiel was tired. He had been on the run ever since he had found the angel tablet, when touching it had broken his ties with Naomi just in the nick of time. The scene in the crypt still haunted him though it had been several weeks now since the event occurred. But one didn't just forget beating their friend almost senseless and then running without a word of explanation. He wished he could forget it but knew that he never would be able to. He hadn't fully understood before what Naomi had actually done to him, but realizing it at the same time he was pummeling Dean into the ground hadn't been one of his highlight moments. And then when he had touched the tablet, it had instantly cleared her from his head; he could almost feel Naomi's anger at being pushed aside, and he felt relief like he never had. But also horror at what he had done to Dean when the elder Winchester had tried to plead with him to fight it, telling him he was family. It had all been too much for him to bear, so after he had healed Dean, he had run, partly to keep the Winchesters safe, knowing the angels would be after him as soon as they realized what had happened, but also because he couldn't quite bring himself to face the brothers after everything he had done. It didn't matter that it was technically Naomi's fault, it had been his hands that had killed Samandriel and all those innocent people the demons had possessed, and nearly done the same to Dean. And it had been his lies when the Winchesters had just wanted the truth from him.

But he was reaching the limits of his endurance. He wasn't at full power, he was a fugitive, and couldn't stop for fear that Naomi and her followers would catch up to him and force him to do their bidding. And he couldn't do that. Either way, he would be putting the Winchesters in danger, but as he figured it, if he were with them, he could at least do his best to protect them instead of being used against them.

However, there was the heart of the problem. He was afraid. Afraid that after what he had done to Dean, the elder Winchester wouldn't want anything to do with him. Yes, he had told Castiel they were family, but then the angel had run without an explanation and he was worried the Winchesters would think he was a coward or worse, didn't trust them enough to be near the angel tablet. But he had to do something, and if what the brothers had said about their new hideout—the Men of Letters' Bunker—was true, then it should be a safe place he could stay, undetected by Naomi, until he could think of a better plan.

Tentatively, he dialed Sam's number, not sure if he was ready to talk to Dean directly quite yet, and waited anxiously as the phone rang for a long time. He almost hung up, when a voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Sam?" Castiel asked hesitantly. "Is that you?"

"Cas?" Sam's voice sounded surprised. There was the sound in the background of a chair being scraped across the floor, followed by heavy steps and demands in Dean's voice. "Where have you been?"

"I've been…on the run," Castiel replied wearily. "I can't talk long, if I stay in one place for too long, I'm afraid Naomi will catch up to me. I was wondering if I might…come to your bunker for a while. I…I need someplace fortified to stay while I think of what to do."

"Yeah, of course," Sam replied, then gave him the address.

That was when Cas had shown up, self-conscious of how they would feel about his sudden reappearance. Sam had sounded inviting and glad to hear from him on the phone, but Castiel still wasn't sure what kind of reaction he would get from Dean. After what had happened, he wouldn't be surprised if the elder brother didn't want to talk to him again.

But when he knocked on the door of the bunker, knowing he had no other option, and he saw them standing there; seeing the genuine relief in their eyes, he felt relief himself, realizing that Dean's words hadn't been anything but the truth. They really did see him as family, as he did in return.

"Cas! Where the hell have you been, man?" Dean demanded and surprised the angel by hugging him tightly and slapping him on the back as he came down the stairs, like he had greeted him when he had found him in Purgatory.

"We were worried the angels found you," Sam added, he too hugging Cas after his brother had let him go.

"I'm sorry, I felt it would be safer for you if I left, but I can't run forever, and I must figure out something to do with the tablet before they finally catch up to me," Castiel told them.

"Come on, we'll talk over some coffee, you look like you could use some," Dean said and motioned him further into the bunker. Castiel looked around, never having been there before. He saw how well the Winchesters looked in it. Like it was home. He decided he liked it too; it felt very safe and secure.

The brothers on the other hand looked tired, and drawn thin. It was expected of Sam with his sickness brought on by the Trials, but Dean as well looked ultimately weary.

He found out why, as they sat down at the table and set a cup of coffee in front of him. Dean shared a look with Sam before the younger Winchester turned to Castiel with a deep, steadying breath.

"We, um, we just found out that Kevin's dead."

Castiel glanced across the table at Sam in shock. "Dead? What happened?"

"We don't know," Dean said tersely. "We don't even know if he is actually dead—but if he isn't he certainly ain't anywhere good. We just got a default email message he set up with all the information attached to it that he had deciphered from the demon tablet."

"We think it might have been Crowley," Sam added quietly.

"I'm sorry," Castiel replied sincerely, directing the apology toward Dean especially, knowing the elder brother was beating himself up about it. Castiel hadn't had as much interaction with Kevin as the Winchesters had, but he had liked the young prophet, and it made him utterly sad to think that he had gone through so much only to die so young.

"Me too," Dean replied and expertly set his face straight, voiding it of emotion as he looked across the table at Castiel, all business again. "So, the angel tablet, right?"

Castiel nodded and reached into his coat, hesitantly pulling out the angel tablet and setting it on the table. It hadn't left her person since he had found out it broke his ties with Naomi, and he felt naked without its weight nestled against his chest.

"So we need to hide it?" Sam asked, nodding toward the tablet.

Castiel nodded. "Yes, the angels cannot get ahold of it, it was not…it was not made for us to have. And I'm sure you all know what would happen if Crowley got his hands on it."

"Yeah, definitely don't want that," Dean agreed. "So what do you think? It would probably be safe here; I bet we even have some sort of warded lock box we can store it in. File it away forever if you want."

"There might be one problem with that. I think it's the only thing that breaks Naomi's contact with me," Castiel told them, even now resting his hand on it. "I was going to hide it, but was afraid she may be able to take control of my mind again and pull the location from me. Or just capture me and torture me."

"What do we need to do, Cas?" Sam asked.

"I did have one idea, but I'm going to need your help, and I don't think you're going to like it," the angel said regretfully, and looked the elder Winchester in the eye.

"What, Cas?" Dean demanded.

The angel shifted uncomfortably. "I need to hide it inside of my vessel."

The brothers' eyes widened. "What? What are you talking about?" Dean demanded.

Castiel sighed. "The only way I can think of to keep it hidden and on me at all times is to psychically put it inside of me. They would search my clothes if I was caught, but they wouldn't think to look there, I'm sure of it."

"Are you kidding me?" Dean's eyes flew open in shock. "You're gonna frickin' cut yourself open and shove it in there?"

"No," Cas said, eyes pained as he slid the tablet across the table to Dean, fingers still touching it. "You are."

Dean's eyes flew open even wider. "The hell I am…"

"Dean," Cas spoke sharply. "Please. I could do this myself but it will be excruciating, and I am not at full power. I don't know if I will be able to stay conscious throughout the procedure, let alone heal myself instantly afterwards. I need your help." He sighed. "You understand that, while it might be a better idea to put the tablet into a warded box, I cannot afford to allow Naomi to use me as her weapon any longer. After what happened last time…" He didn't continue, casting his eyes down to the table, jaw tightening.

Dean swallowed hard, looking like he was going to protest, when he finally nodded once. "Fine. If you think this will work, but dammit, Cas, for the record, I think this is a terrible idea."

"Perhaps, but it is the only one I have," the angel said.

Sam cleared his throat. "Should we set up the surgery room we have?"

Dean swallowed convulsively again, looking like he might be fighting the urge to vomit, but he nodded. "Yeah, that would be the best place—I'm certainly not gonna do it in my kitchen."

Castiel held onto the tablet as he followed Dean and Sam further into the bunker. They arrived at a small room off of the infirmary and Dean opened the door with a creak of disuse. Castiel stopped in the doorway as he caught sight of the contents of the room. There was a chair and a metal table and trays of sterile instruments, reminding him of something at the edge of his mind—fear, pain, helplessness, and Naomi's voice at the forefront. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force the memories aside.

"Cas, you all right?" came Sam's soft inquiry.

Castiel shook his head slightly, opening his eyes again to see two worried pairs of eyes on him. "It's just…I think it reminds me of Naomi's attempts to… 're-educate' me."

Dean's jaw tightened at the mention of the angel, and Sam's eyes turned sympathetic and understanding. "You gonna be okay?" he asked.

Castiel nodded decisively. Even though he didn't like being in there he trusted Sam and Dean more than anyone else, and though he hated to make them do this, they were the only ones he knew he could count on. He wouldn't have called on anyone else. "Yes, I'll be fine."

Sam nodded with a small reassuring smile, and began to wipe down the chair with disinfectant while Dean started sorting through the surgical equipment. Castiel shook his head as he saw what he was doing.

"You're going to have to use my angel blade, Dean," he told him. "It's the only thing that will make the wound stay unclosed long enough."

"Dammit, Cas," Dean cursed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Okay, Sam, you got that clean?"

Sam looked up from cleaning the chair. "Yeah, I think we're good here." Castiel was somewhat glad they had chosen the more comfortable looking chair above the cold metal table that he suspected had been used for autopsies judging by the drain and the trough that sat under it. He didn't have to be mortal for that to send a shiver down his spine.

"You ready?" Dean asked, as he fiddled with bandages and the suture kit he had put onto the tray beside the chair. He looked as nervous as Castiel felt.

The angel took a steadying breath and pulled his blade from his sleeve to hand to Dean. The elder Winchester didn't take it instantly and Castiel pushed it closer.

"Dean, please."

Dean finally grabbed it. "I don't like having to do this, Cas," he said sincerely, pain in his eyes. "You're just as much a brother to me as Sam, you know, and I…"

"I know, but please, you have to do this for me," he pleaded, trying to make him understand. "I can't let her get into my head again, Dean. I can't. I think of you as a brother too, you and Sam, and if she forces me to hurt either of you again…"

"Alright," the hunter finally conceded with a sharp nod. "Get ready then, I'm going to scrub up."

"Come on, Dean, you know you always wanted to be in a hospital drama," Sam said with a small smirk, trying to lighten the mood as he helped Cas off with his coats and shirt, putting them to one side. The whole time Castiel held the tablet, not wanting to let go of it even for a second. He was probably safe in the bunker, but still…it was better not to risk it.

"Shut up, nurse," Dean told him as he pulled on a surgical gown over his clothes.

By that time, Castiel had stripped down to his trousers and was getting into the chair. He found his breathing quickening as Sam helped get it into a reclining position, and his hands clenched at his sides, one still clutched around the tablet that he had tucked against his thigh.

"Cas?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Sorry, it's just…"

"Another flashback?" the younger Winchester said quietly. Castiel swallowed hard, ashamed of being so weak. He didn't even fully remember what Naomi had done to him, but this position, this room, caused him to recall too many bad memories and he had to remind himself that he was among friends. Sam decisively pulled a chair over next to Cas so he could sit by his head. One large hand descended onto the angel's shoulder.

"It's gonna be okay, Cas. Over before you know it," Sam told him. "Remember, it's just Dean and me here."

Castiel smiled slightly, grateful that Sam, even though he was hurting and likely wanting to crawl into bed, was there to give his support.

"Okay, let's get this over with," Dean said as he came over, placing the angel blade on the stay by the chair. He looked down at Cas. "I'm guessing there's nothing I can sedate you with that would actually work, huh?" he asked half hopefully.

"It would likely take as much as would be needed for a herd of elephants," Castiel replied wryly. "I think I will just have to bear it."

Dean shook his head with a dark chuckle. "Okay, man. But if you gotta pass out, I'm not gonna hold it against you, okay?"

Castiel nodded and Dean took a deep breath adjusting his grip on the blade. Cas closed his eyes and Sam's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"Okay, I guess I just… dig in?" Dean asked helplessly, deciding there was no reason to stand on ceremony. That would only make it worse for all of them.

"Hold on," Sam said and reached for Cas' discarded belt, folding it in half and putting it between the angel's teeth. '"Trust me," he said and Castiel nodded and bit down.

~~~~~~~~~

Dean took a deep breath, trying to force his hand to steady and then before he could think about it anymore, he took the blade and dug into Castiel's flesh, carefully making a slit wide enough to put the tablet in. Cas groaned past the belt in his mouth, his hands fisting at his sides, every muscle taut and trembling. Dean was trying his best to distance himself from the fact that he was willingly causing his friend pain, and not to heal wounds, but to make them. It was one thing to have to re-set a dislocated shoulder or dig out a bullet, but making a new, fresh wound, no matter how necessary it was, made him sick. And worse, it drudged up memories of his time in Hell, torturing for Alastair, things he only wished he could forget. He hesitated for a second, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Dean?" came Sam's soft inquiry.

Dean swallowed hard and took a steadying breath. "I got it. I'm good." He set his jaw and quickly finished the cut, neat and tidy but now bleeding copiously. And worse, there was blue grace leaking from the wound as well. He quickly grabbed a rag to sop up some of the blood and grace that was flowing out of the wound, quickly casting a glance up to look at Cas who had his eyes rolled back in his head, looking too pale, and his teeth clenched around the belt, breathing heavily.

"Hold on, Cas," Dean told him, then nodded to the tablet the angel still kept at his side. "Sam." The younger Winchester handed him the tablet quickly before resettling a strong hand on Cas' shoulder, looking like he was going to be sick.

Dean took the tablet and with a deep breath to steady himself, he looked at the nearly catatonic Cas. "Sorry, buddy, this is gonna hurt like a son of a bitch." He then braced himself, opening the wound and forcing the tablet in.

Castiel screamed, his true voice coming through, and the brothers winced, Sam instinctively clapping his hands over his ears and Dean wishing he could do the same, but he had to finish settling the tablet, get it over with as soon as possible so as not to cause Cas any more agony than necessary. Maybe it was a bit for himself too; his hands were coated in Cas' blood now, and that disturbed him almost more than anything.

Cas suddenly went limp with a small sigh, head rolling to one side and the belt clattering to the floor. Sam quickly reached up, taking Cas' head between his hands and checking for a pulse in his neck. Dean finished inserting the tablet and pressed down on the wound with the rag he had been using, trying to slow the bleeding some until he could stitch the wound up.

"He good?" he asked shakily.

"Yeah," Sam assured him. Dean instantly sent up a prayer of thanks and got back to work.

"Okay, can you keep the wound clean while I stitch him up?" he asked Sam as he reached for another cloth and attempted to wipe the blood from his hands with it but that didn't take it all off. He bit his lip, but chose to ignore it for the time being, instead grabbing the suture kit and threading the needle. It felt like an eternity as he tied off stitches while Sam sopped up blood for him, and he was incredibly glad that Cas was unconscious for this. He was a little worried that the wound wasn't showing any signs of healing yet, but he knew from past experiences that wounds made by an angel blade kept Cas laid up for longer than others, which he could usually heal instantly. The disturbing part was feeling the hardness of the tablet under the angel's skin; he thought wryly how it was a good thing that Cas didn't need the use of his organs like a human did.

Finally, he finished the sutures and left Sam to clean the blood from Cas' skin while he made pads from squares of gauze and taped them securely over the wound, deciding that would hold well enough for now. Only then did he allow himself to run over to the sink on one side of the room to vomit. Sam was there soon after, a hand on his back, murmuring reassurances. He helped Dean get out of the scrubs, as the elder brother was shaking too hard to do it himself, and then Dean quickly scrubbed Cas' blood from his hands with water so hot it was nearly scalding. But he felt a little better after that.

"Let's get him into a bed," Dean suggested, clearing his throat as he finished drying his hands off.

Sam helped him lift Cas, and together they carried him to the room across the hall from Dean's, laying him gently on the bed.

"Go get some extra blankets," Dean told his brother, as he pulled the ones already on the bed from under Cas as carefully as he could and proceeded to tuck them around the angel. Maybe angels didn't get shock, but it made Dean feel better at least and Cas did look pale and feel a bit cold. Sam came back with a heavy wool blanket and Dean added that on top of the others before he stepped back and pulled up a chair to settle in for a vigil, wondering when Cas would wake up.

Dean watched him for a long time, trying to keep his mind from replaying the scene in the surgery over and over. He knew Cas had been desperate, but still…he knew that having Naomi in his head had been a horrible experience, but Dean also didn't want Cas to feel guilty because of what he had done to the hunter in the crypt. Sure, Dean still thought about it, had nightmares even, but it hadn't been Cas' fault and he certainly wasn't angry with the angel—he'd reserved all of that anger for Naomi. Sure, he had been kind of pissed that Cas had run away, but he had come back now, and that was what mattered. Still, he thought that they might need to have a talk about it. And boy did he hate the prospect of that, but after everything that had happened, Dean figured he owed it to Cas for leaving him in Purgatory for Naomi to find and use for her own wishes. If they had just been able to get out together…

But there was no good in thinking of the past. Right now, they needed to think of finishing the trials. Hopefully, that would solve all their problems.

~~~~~~~~

Castiel woke confused, finding himself comfortable, but disoriented as to how he had gotten to where he was. He tried to sit up but pain pulled at his middle and there were suddenly hands on his shoulders, pushing him back.

"Woah, buddy, don't rip the stitches."

Cas finally opened his eyes blearily to see Dean's worried face looking down at him, one hand still on his shoulder, making sure he would stay put before he resumed his seat in the chair beside the bed Castiel was lying in.

"How ya doin'?" the elder Winchester asked, his hands wringing slightly in his lap.

Memory flooded back and Castiel felt a wave of remorse wash over him for what he had asked Dean to do. His hand went to his stomach and found bandages there. He could feel the weight of the tablet inside of him, pushing uncomfortably against his ribs, but he still had the clarity in his head that came with contact to it, and any physical discomfort was worth that.

"I'm…I'll be fine," he said to assure Dean.

"Good," the hunter said, running a hand over his face tiredly. "Don't ever ask me to do something like that again."

Castiel swallowed hard, looking at this man, his friend, his charge. It had been callous of him to ask that of him. He knew better than anyone the sort of memories the action might have brought to the surface for Dean, and suddenly remembered when he'd had to ask Dean to torture Alastair for them—not the same at all, he knew, but how many times would he ask Dean to do things that would put him back into the mindset of his time in perdition? He was supposed to look after the Winchesters, not distress them further; but he had needed help and had no one else to turn to. It had been an unfortunately necessary evil. "I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean pressed his lips together and shook his head. "No worries, Cas. I do what I gotta."

"Thank you," the angel replied as he tried to shift into a sitting position.

"Hey, take it easy," Dean told him, surging from the chair again.

"It's not as bad as you think," Castiel assured him as he pushed the blankets down and started to peel off the bandages. Dean looked like he was about to protest, but saw that the wound was mostly healed already and relaxed a bit. "It's still sore, but I will be fully healed in another day or so, provided I rest."

"Then you do that," Dean told him firmly.

"How is Sam?" Cas asked, trying to get the attention off of himself for the moment.

Dean sighed. "Crappy as usual. He's having another bout of fever, coughing up blood on the quarter hour…nothing helps."

Castiel was pained to see the grief in Dean's eyes, the hopelessness that he couldn't fix his brother's problems. Castiel had just as hard a time watching the younger Winchester suffer, knowing he could do nothing to heal him or even ease Sam's pain. He hated seeing his family suffer.

"We will end the Trials, Dean, and Sam will get well again," he assured the hunter.

"And what if he doesn't?" Dean asked suddenly. "You can't heal him now, what if he can't be healed later? What if he doesn't even…" He stopped, looking down and swallowing hard. Cas reached out and gripped his wrist.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said gently. "But right now we need to concentrate on the information Kevin sent you and see if there's anything that might be helpful. I want to help you and Sam finish this."

Dean gave him a grateful look. "We did consider the fact that finding the scribe Metatron might be our best bet to cracking the Trials now."

Castiel nodded slowly. "You are probably right about that. I think finding him would be a good place to start."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, okay." He sat up and then rose from the chair. "Well, I guess we should get started then."

 


	2. Chapter 2

Two days later, Castiel was completely healed, getting more used to the weight of the tablet nestled underneath his ribs. During that time, Sam and Dean had been looking into anything they could to try and track down Metatron as they still had no indication as to whether Kevin was alive or not. Castiel had helped where he could, fascinated by the vast library the Men of Letters had in their bunker but it was an overwhelming task, and they were still trying to figure out the filing system. Eventually though, Sam was able to find an old Native American symbol that correlated with the symbol in the footnotes Kevin had found on the tablet that were supposed to be Metatron's signature.

"Do you really think it's possible that Metatron could still be hiding out on earth somewhere?" Sam asked Castiel.

The angel shrugged. "I think it's most likely. We haven't heard anything from him for centuries. I wasn't even a fledgling when he left. As far as I know only the archangels remember him, and they're…well…gone."

"So what, we just go up to Colorado and see if we can find any information of this 'Messenger of God' symbol?" Dean asked. "Where would we even begin?"

"I don't see any other options right now," Sam replied tiredly, rubbing his obviously aching head. "This is the only lead we've found in weeks, and I think we need to at least look into it. We'll never get these Trials finished if we don't know what's on the tablet, and Metatron might be the only person who is able to do that now. At least until another prophet pops up."

"Well, you need to get some rest, we're not doing anything about it until the morning." Dean stood up and gathered the empty plates and coffee cups that littered the table among their research. Castiel helped him and followed into the kitchen.

"Cas, I'm gonna need your help on this one," Dean told him quietly as soon as they were out of Sam's earshot. "Sammy isn't well enough to go tramping around the mountains looking for a lost Scribe of God."

"Of course, Dean," Castiel replied. "I don't think he's going to like it very much though."

"No, he's not," Dean replied wryly.

And that was why the next morning over breakfast Castiel was watching Dean have an argument with his sick brother. Sam had had a particularly rough night, could barely keep his feet, and looked like he hadn't slept in days with red eyes and dark bruises under them, forehead shining with fever sweat, but he was still putting up a fight.

"I'm doing these trials, Dean, I can't just sit here while you and Cas go off and try to finish them!"

"We're not trying to finish them, Sam! We're just trying to find more information. Kevin was on the last trial and as far as we know that info is still on the half he didn't have. But until we find out if he's actually dead, or until a new prophet shows up we need all the help we can get. If that comes in the flavor of some nerd angel in witness protection, then so be it! But you are staying here."

"The hell I am!" Sam shouted even as he swayed. "Kevin died for this, Dean! I can't just sit here and do nothing!"

Castiel felt his distress, more than he was willing to admit, really. He knew what it was like to be helpless to do what you knew needed to be done, but he also realized the necessity of Sam sitting this one out. Right now his place was here, getting better.

"Sam, your brother's right," Castiel told the angry hunter. "You need to rest while you can. Dean and I can do this by ourselves, so you should take the opportunity to get some of your strength back. Besides, we may need someone here to research for us if we need information."

He hoped he didn't sound too patronizing, but these were genuine concerns so he hoped Sam would at least listen to reason. The younger brother didn't seem to want to, though, looking angrily between the angel and Dean.

"Sammy, please," Dean pleaded, his voice softening slightly. "You are not on your game, you can't shoot straight, hell, you can hardly even stand. If we got into a fight you would either be killed or get Cas and me killed having to watch your back. You gotta know that, kiddo."

Sam's jaw worked in anger, indignation, but he finally gave a sharp nod. "Fine. But don't get killed, okay?"

"We won't," Dean assured him, and gently took his arm, leading him back to one of the comfy library chairs. "Now be good, take your meds, and don't do anything stupid. Call me if you need anything and make sure you eat, okay? There should be enough food in the pantry and I'll call you if we find anything."

"Okay, fine," Sam said with a huff.

Dean gave him one last worried look before he turned to Castiel. "Okay, let's go."

~~~~~~~~~

Castiel and Dean left Sam among the books in the library as they took the Impala and headed to Colorado. It was a pretty silent drive, apart from Dean's music, both of them seeming to not want to talk about what they obviously should be discussing. Castiel wondered if he should broach the subject first, knowing Dean wouldn't do it at all if he could help it, but decided that might seem like he was defending himself and his actions in the crypt. He did feel guilty, certainly, but he seemed to see the same in Dean, and wasn't quite sure why, unless it was because he and Sam had failed to see what was wrong before Cas had nearly beat him into the ground. No matter the reason for the guilt, he knew that Dean really needed to talk about it and now was as good a time as any.

He waited through a few more moments until the current AC/DC song finished and then Castiel finally turned toward Dean, not quite looking at him, but enough to grab his attention.

"Dean, I think we should talk about what happened when we found the angel tablet in the crypt."

"Cas," Dean replied wearily, shoulders slumping even as his hands tightened on the wheel. "Look, man, I don't blame you for what happened—it wasn't you, okay? And I know you ran because you thought you had no other choice; can we please drop it?"

"We need to talk about this sometime, Dean; despite your protests, I know something is bothering you about it, and I think it's best to discuss it before things get out of hand as usual—"

"Cas, please, we have enough on our plate right now, can we do this some other time?"

Castiel fought back his frustrations, wanting to argue, but knowing it would do no good. Instead, he set his jaw and looked out the window. He felt rather than heard Dean's weary sigh from across the car. The hunter was stubborn, and Castiel decided he might just have to bide his time and wait for Dean to be ready to discuss it. Otherwise, he would likely just get more protests and it hadn't been Castiel's fault, and that wouldn't do either of them good. The rest of the trip continued in silence, Dean only turning his music up louder to dissuade any invitation to talk.

Eventually, they pulled up at a good-sized yet deserted-looking hotel and casino that was in the area they thought they would have the best luck finding Metatron. "We'll get a room here and then head out and question the locals," Dean told Cas as he got out of the Impala and headed toward the trunk for his duffle bag. "This is the area Sam said that whole Messenger of God symbol thing originated, so someone must know something."

Castiel looked toward the hotel when he felt the prickle in his grace that he did when any of his brethren were nearby. And right now, that was not a good thing.

"Dean, we have to go," he said urgently, reaching out in the attempt to grab Dean and fly them both to safety but it was already too late. An angel blade pricked him under the chin.

"Don't try it, Castiel, or Dean Winchester dies," said a menacing voice in his ear.

Castiel was horrified to find that Dean was no longer beside him, but being held between two angels several yards away, already struggling.

"Get your hands off me, you bastards! Let us go!" Dean yelled, only to be punched in the stomach, doubling over with a grunt.

"Good job, gentlemen," said a female voice and Castiel looked over to see Naomi, his stomach tightening at the sight of her. He glared at her as she met his eyes.

"Hello, Castiel," she said.

"Naomi, you bitch," Dean snarled receiving another punch for his troubles.

"Let him go, Naomi," Castiel said. "This is between you and me."

"I can't do that, Castiel," she told him, her voice sounded regretful, but the satisfied look on her face told another story. "I finally found you at long last, and you brought us leverage to boot. Now I think it's time we had a chat. Bring them."

She disappeared seconds before Castiel and Dean were transported to what looked to be a conference room somewhere. Cas wasn't sure where they were, he just knew they were still on earth, thankfully. But that was the only thing to be thankful for. How could he have let his guard down enough for Naomi to find him? He had half hoped that the tablet was keeping them from tracking him too, but it appeared that had been nothing but wishful thinking. While it might have kept Naomi from manipulating him through her connection or angel radio, it hadn't taken him off the radar completely. And now he had dragged Dean into this too and that wasn't good at all. Naomi had no need for the hunter apart from using him as leverage and she would likely encourage torturing or maiming him beyond recovery for the sake of getting the information she needed out of Castiel.

Naomi waved a hand at her followers. "Disarm them. Search them to see if they are carrying the tablet."

Castiel and Dean were shoved against the wall while their captors roughly searched them, taking all the weapons they found. Castiel was only carrying the angel blade, but Dean was carrying several knives and his gun, causing the angels to simply relieve him of his coat.

"Hey, you wanna undress me, you gotta buy me dinner first," Dean snarked at them before he was spun around and shoved back against the wall with a curt warning to stay as the angels stepped back and grouped around Naomi for further instruction. Castiel had already taken stock of the angels. He didn't know the two who had captured Dean offhand, but the one who had grabbed him was Mendiel and they had never been on good terms. The angel was known to be sadistic, one of heaven's interrogators who worked directly under Naomi so she could keep her hands clean for the most part when the angels she was supposed to "re-educate" needed more than simply her rewiring job. Like him. He didn't remember much but he was sure Mendiel had been the one to officiate his "instruction" when Naomi had him in "training". This did not bode well.

He turned to Dean and spoke quietly as Naomi conversed with her underlings.

"They came with the intent to find me, and they will use you against me, Dean," he said quickly. "I won't let them do that." He cast a glance at the other angels before turning back to Dean, reaching a hand out. "Quickly, I'll send you out of here while they're not watching."

"Not without you," the hunter said stubbornly.

Castiel glowered, frantic to get Dean out of there, and not in any mood to argue. "I can't. They found me easily enough before, they'll find me again. If I went with you, then we'd just end up right back here where we started."

"Cas, no," Dean gritted out. "I'm not leaving you alone with these dicks."

"Dean they will kill you to get the information out of me, and I cannot afford to give it up, do you understand?" Castiel demanded, fear for his friend making him frantic. "Mendiel there is an interrogator and he enjoys his job. He won't want to miss the opportunity to take apart one of the humans who, in their opinion, screwed up everything. Even if I gave up the tablet, they have no reason to keep either of us alive, especially you."

"I can take care of myself, Cas, this isn't my first rodeo," Dean hissed. Castiel set his jaw, and started to reach out to send Dean back to the bunker anyway, whether he liked it or not.

He didn't get the chance. Cold metal pricked his throat and his arm was wrenched back and up between his shoulder blades. He grunted as he heard Mendiel chuckle dryly close to his ear. "Thought I wouldn't catch wind of that little conversation, Castiel? Sorry, but Dean's going to stay right here. I wouldn't want him to miss the show."

Castiel's stomach twisted in defeat. Fine, if he couldn't get Dean out of there, then he was just going to have to do everything he could to keep him safe.

"Alright, let's get to business," Naomi said briskly and Dean was instantly grabbed by the two angels again while Mendiel hovered beside Castiel, blade held threateningly. Dean struggled, and Castiel tried to go to his aid, but Mendiel was in his face instantly, pushing him back with the blade at his throat.

"Uh-uh, Castiel, unless you want to watch Ion and Daniel gut your pet in front of you." He grabbed one of Castiel's wrists and yanked his arm out before he could react, quickly snapping a cuff onto his wrist. Sigils glowed briefly over the metal in activation upon closure and Castiel instantly felt his powers contained, bound by the sigils.

Mendiel smiled grimly. "A little insurance never goes amiss."

Castiel's expression hardened but he stayed still. He didn't like this at all, he was too far from Dean to be able to get to him in time if they tried anything, and now the cuff meant that he couldn't use any of his powers, including flying them out of there.

"Let's make this easy, Castiel," Naomi told him, stepping forward, her heels clicking on the floor. "You tell us where the angel tablet is, or I will have them take it out of the Winchester boy's flesh."

"I won't let you hurt him," Castiel growled.

"Then I suggest that you do as I say," Naomi told him, stepping closer so she was in his face. "Where is the angel tablet, Castiel?"

"In the words of a good friend," Castiel said, casting a quick glance at Dean. "Bite me."

"Oh we'll bite," Naomi assured him and turned, pointing a finger at Dean and flicking her hand to one side.

A crack was heard and Dean nearly collapsed with a breathless scream of shock, his right leg broken. The angels kept him upright as he groaned curses under his breath.

Castiel surged forward, only to have Mendiel's angel blade dig into his chest.

"I warned you, Castiel," Naomi said. "Now that you see I am serious, perhaps you will be more willing to answer."

"Don't, Cas," Dean moaned, trying to steady himself on his one good leg, every movement making him a shade paler, sweat beading on his forehead and the freckles standing out on his cheeks.

Castiel was already seeing red, but he was helpless. He knew it would be monumentally stupid to give the angels the tablet, had no idea what they would do with it, what power it held, but he couldn't let them kill Dean either—that wasn't even an option. As bad as it would be for them to have the tablet, he found he couldn't justify sacrificing Dean for that. No wonder they all thought he was a poor angel. However, it was that kind of thinking that had made him believe that Sam and Dean could stop the apocalypse; what had made him side with them against his better judgment, and he hadn't regretted it since despite all the hardship his choice had wrought.

"Tick-tock, Castiel," Mendiel said, motioning back and forth with the angel blade. "I will say, I am looking forward to seeing how long it takes Winchester over there to scream. I'm interested in his report on what's really worse: heaven or hell."

"The tablet was not meant for us, Naomi," Castiel tried to appeal. "You know this."

"Then what right do you have to it?" Naomi demanded.

"I am protecting it, from all of us. It's for the good of everyone," Castiel said.

"You always were the spanner in the works, Castiel," Naomi said, anger and impatience clouding her eyes. "You were always wrong, can't you just work right for once?"

"How many times have you torn into my head to try to put me to right, Naomi?" Castiel demanded. "How many times?"

"Frankly, too damn many," Naomi snarled, coming up to his face and grabbing him by the front of his coat. "And I will do it again and again until there's no defiance left in you if I have to. Until there's no Castiel left. I will make you obedient if it is the last thing I do."

Castiel glared down at her. "Will you? Because it hasn't stuck so far. I think you need to rethink your tactics, Naomi. I think you're really just afraid that other angels will follow in my footsteps."

"It doesn't matter," she snarled, shoving him backwards. "If you will not tell me willingly where the tablet is, then I will make you tell me. I will dig through your head until I find out, and it won't be pleasant. So I'll give you another chance. Where is it?"

"Go screw yourself, Naomi," Castiel told her sincerely.

"Atta' boy," he heard Dean say with a weak chuckle, before Naomi backhanded Castiel roughly so that he could taste blood.

"Fine, we'll just do it this way then." She snapped her fingers at Mendiel as she grabbed Dean from the other angels, making him cry out as he was forced to step on his bad leg. She used her powers to throw him face first against the wall and keep him there since Dean couldn't stand with his injured leg. The hunter groaned and tried to move, but couldn't manage more than an inch. Naomi seemed satisfied with his position and turned to Castiel. "I hope for Dean Winchester's sake you are cooperative, Castiel." Then she looked over his shoulder to his captor. "Mendiel, scourge him."

"No!" Castiel cried as Ion and Daniel traded places, taking Castiel's arms instead while Mendiel went to Naomi as she reached into a bag on the table and pulled out a lash with varied tails, all containing barbed metal bits on the ends.

"We'll see if you are more willing to answer if you watch your friend suffer," Naomi said, satisfaction written on her face.

Mendiel smirked as he shook out the whip and Castiel couldn't bear to watch him put it to Dean's flesh. It would tear his frail human body apart in minutes. A surge of energy flowed through him and he slammed his head backwards into Daniel's face, causing the angel to let go, before he turned and kicked Ion in the fork of his legs, doubling him over. It took only seconds and Mendiel was still preparing to strike Dean when Castiel lunged between them, snagging Dean and bearing them both to the ground. Dean cried out in surprise and pain as Castiel's weight bore down on his injured leg, but Castiel was still moving, his only thought getting Dean safe. He gripped the hunter's shirt and hauled him bodily into the corner, shoving him back against the wall as he positioned himself in a crouch in front of Dean, pressing in close to cover as much of Dean's body as he could with his own. Naomi was shouting at the angels as they recovered from Castiel's attack.

"Get him!" she screamed.

"Cas, what the hell?" Dean grunted, trying to wriggle free. "Um, personal space?" But Castiel shook his head.

"Stop," he commanded.

"Castiel, don't be foolish," Naomi told him. "Surrender Dean Winchester to us."

"No," Castiel said over his shoulder.

"Take him," she commanded as Daniel and Ion stepped forward, trying to pry Dean out of Castiel's grip, but the angel only pressed Dean's back into the corner so they couldn't touch him. All the while, Dean was shoving at his chest, until Castiel was forced to dig his knee into Dean's bad leg to get him to stop, a pang of remorse singing through his chest as he heard the hunter yelp.

"Stop, Dean," he pleaded, pulling back slightly to look the human in the eyes and Dean mercifully stilled though he didn't look happy about it.

"Castiel!" Naomi snapped, but she had no hold over him anymore. Castiel looked down at Dean again, and met his eyes, were wide and frightened for his friend, as he said his next words.

"If you want him, you'll have to go through me."

"Very well," Naomi replied tightly. "Mendiel, continue."

The interrogator seemed pleased with this, and stepped forward, raising his arm before bringing the scourge down on Castiel's back.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel couldn't help the initial flinch as the whip's barbed ends dug into his body, tearing straight through all the layers of his clothing and ripping through skin and muscle alike. Several more blows and he could feel blood dripping from the wounds, trailing over his ribs to stain the front of his shirt as well. He watched the horror in Dean's eyes as the hunter caught sight of the blood, one of his hands fisting in Castiel's coat and shoving it aside only to see more blood seep into the white shirt. That only made Dean fight harder to get free, and through the pain, Castiel almost let him, but he was finally able to steel himself and push the tearing agony aside long enough to grip Dean by the shoulders and push him back against the wall almost violently.

"Cas, come on, man, you have to fight this! Don't let them do this to you, they'll kill you!" the hunter pleaded but Castiel shook his head.

"No, I have to protect you," he said firmly and nearly collapsed against Dean as another blow fell, bracing one hand against the wall as he choked out a gasp. Dean cursed and Castiel looked up in horror to see blood staining the walls around them. His blood.

"Cas, come on," Dean said shakily, his own face speckled crimson. Even though Castiel knew it was his own blood, it was all too reminiscent of the crypt. He could not allow Dean to be hurt because of him again, whether by his hand or anyone else's. He wouldn't stand for it, and Dean was just going to have to understand that.

"Dean, please," he said quietly and met the hunter's eyes. Dean just cursed again and slammed his head back against he wall. But he had accepted what was happening and that was all Cas needed.

Unfortunately, the agony was becoming unbearable. The lashes had torn so deep they had gone to the bone. Castiel could feel his grace trying to fight against the barrier caused by the sigiled manacle and heal his wounds, but fizzled out like dying sparks. Cas couldn't help the small moans of pain; though he tried to keep them quiet enough so that the other angels couldn't hear them. Only Dean. And the hunter had finally gone still. There was only his white-knuckled grip on Castiel's coat that told of his helpless need to do something.

"Cas," he choked out as the angel bit back another whimper, but Castiel only forced his shoulder up higher to protect Dean's head from any errant lashes. He closed his eyes as the ripping pain continued, pulling him down and folding him in until he only knew the pain.

Until his whole world was red.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean had a lot of painful memories, but this one was up there with watching Sam jump into hell with Lucifer in tow. His dad dying for him. Watching Bobby die. He wasn't even going to go into how many times he'd had to watch his brother die. But this was just as bad. His other brother, Cas, shielding him with his own body in some twisted form of protection that made Dean feel like a child. This wasn't just jumping in front of a gun, he would have done that for Sam or Cas, and a number of other people; this was a whole new level. Castiel was literally using himself as a shield between Dean and the angels, taking every hit meant for Dean. They hadn't been able to separate him from the hunter. Even now every lash only made Cas press closer, trying to cover more of his body. It wasn't just a split second decision in the heat of battle, it had been a precise maneuver on Cas' part. He would have known the consequences and he still didn't care about them.

Dean normally would have felt as awkward as hell being this close to another man for extended periods—he liked his personal space—but he didn't even feel that with Cas. All he felt was the utter devotion the angel had to him. The security that he wanted to hate, and couldn't. It made him feel safe; protected in a way that quite possibly Dean had never felt before. He had always been the protector, the big brother, and even his father who had died for him hadn't made him feel as safe and sure of protection as Cas did now. Cas was not only his surrogate brother, he was his guardian, had been since the angel had pulled him out of hell. And while he knew there was nothing more right than this feat of pure devotion, it made him hurt so much to have his friend sacrifice himself for Dean—again. Memories flashed through his head of his escape from Purgatory; the Leviathans on their tail, reaching desperately out to Cas, fingers scrabbling against his coat sleeve before finally grabbing his wrist, only to have Cas let go and push him away. Stupid, self-sacrificing son of a bitch.

But this, this was a thousand times worse. There had been something dreamy—or rather nightmarish—about the escape from Purgatory, something unreal. This was raw and brutal and unavoidable in its veracity. The tenseness of Cas' body, as each lash drove him to only more pain, his chest heaving with the screams he was trying to hold in; in his position, Dean felt every strike shudder through Cas' body, felt the wind from the lash, and smelled the copper tang that was quickly filling the air in the corner they were wedged in. But none of that was as bad as the fact that with every swing that bastard Mendiel made with the scourge, blood sprayed over the wall behind them, and painted the places Cas wasn't covering Dean's body with the hot red, sticky substance that belonged to his friend. And sometimes there were even glowing bits of grace flung aside too, and Dean prayed harder than he had probably ever prayed in his life, that it would end soon, and that Cas would still be alive afterward.

He could both see and feel Cas' pain, in the tight lines of his face, the tenseness in his body, and Dean did the only thing he could do and gripped his coat lapels, taking some of the angel's weight so he could at least not show humility by slumping during the torture. But Cas was pretty much keeping himself upright through sheer will, kneeling there in front of Dean, one hand braced against the wall and one gripping the hunter's shoulder so tightly it ached, but Dean didn't complain. If that was the only way he could take some of the pain from Cas then he would let the angel break his shoulder. It was the least he could do but Dean told himself it was helping so he could do something.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Dean heard Naomi say, "That's enough."

Mendiel brought the lash back to rest at his side, blood audibly dripping on the floor in the sudden silence, causing an eerie accompaniment to Dean's racing heart and Cas' shallow breaths. Dean cast a quick glance up at Cas' face, seeing his eyes squeezed shut, his face pale…too pale for an angel.

Even though it was over, Cas didn't dare slump, his body even more tense if possible as if awaiting another bout of pain. But he wouldn't show weakness to Naomi and the others. That was what they wanted, and if he did, then they would win.

"Cas," Dean whispered, trying to wiggle slightly, but the angel didn't budge.

Naomi crouched down beside them. "Have you learned your lesson now, Castiel? Will you tell me where the tablet is?"

But Cas was silent, not making a move. Naomi sighed and stood. "Take him."

Mendiel stepped forward with the other angels and they once again tried to pry Cas away from Dean but the angel still wasn't having any of it, only crushing Dean almost painfully against the wall so they couldn't get to him. He heard Cas keen slightly in the back of his throat as Mendiel shoved a knee against his torn up back, gripping the collar of his coat and leaning down to put his face next to Cas'.

"The human isn't worth it, Castiel," he said. "I will literally tear through your body to get to him if I have to."

Cas just shook his head, and though Dean wished to tell him to just let go, he knew the angel, that stupid protective idiot, would never listen to him anyway. He was surprised when Naomi spoke up.

"Leave him, Mendiel," she commanded. "We will give him time to consider his actions. Perhaps then he will be more willing, especially if he knows this is only the beginning. We will reconvene tomorrow. For now, put them in that closet down the hall, they will be secure in there."

Mendiel dug his knee into Cas' back one last time, with a sneer, before he yanked on the back of his coat and pulled him to his feet. The other angels had Dean by now and were hauling him upright. He had somehow nearly forgotten his broken leg in the events, and the shock as he stumbled to his feet nearly sent him unconscious. He was surprised to find that Cas still had a hand around one of his arms, seeming unwilling to risk them being separated. The other angels ignored them for the most part and simply dragged them out of the conference room and down the hall to a small broom closet. It was dark but before they were closed in, Dean could see sigils drawn onto the walls, likely extra protection in case Cas somehow managed to slip the sigiled cuff they had put on him. They were both thrown in unceremoniously, collapsing in a tangled heap on the floor. Dean cursed breathlessly, writhing from the pain in his leg as Cas somehow drug himself into a sitting position so that he was between Dean and the angels, glaring up at Mendiel with a look that clearly dared him to try anything.

Mendiel glared back for a few seconds before he shrugged uncaringly. "See you tomorrow, Castiel," he said as the door shut and was followed by the sound of several locks snapping into place.

Dean groaned and pulled himself into a sitting position against the wall before he reached up and groped for a light switch. He finally found one and a dull bare light bulb sparked to life above them in the abandoned broom closet. He instantly turned his attention over to Cas who had finally allowed himself to slump, one shoulder against the wall, breathing shallowly as if every breath hurt—and considering his injuries, they probably did.

"Cas, hey, hey buddy, you all right?" Dean asked, shifting so he could pull himself over to sit next to Cas, cringing as he forced his bad leg straight out in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas whispered, voice choked with pain.

"For what?" Dean demanded.

Cas craned his head up to look at him. Dean noticed for the first time that he had blood on his lip and it looked like Cas had nearly bitten through it, probably to keep from screaming. "This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been with you, I should never have come back to you and Sam, I've only put you in danger."

"Dude, you just saved my life, now shut up for a minute and let me see what that dickwad did to you." Dean swallowed back his unease, worried because Cas made no protest as he carefully maneuvered the angel over his lap since he couldn't get close enough to tend to him otherwise with his busted leg. He braced himself before turning Cas so he could fully see his back.

"Son of a bitch," Dean choked out as the damage came into view.

He swallowed bile, knowing he couldn't lose it now. But he had never seen anything quite so bad, not this side of hell anyway—and yes, he meant that literally. He had thought the year in Purgatory had toughened him up, hardened him in ways he had never known he needed hardening—made him a better, more dangerous hunter. But seeing his best friend, his surrogate brother, torn up like this, made him nearly lose it.

With shaking fingers, he peeled back what was left of the trench coat and shirt Cas wore, the fabric all but gone, and revealed the bloody pulp that was his back. It bled sluggishly, bright blue grace flickering at the edges and looking like dying fireflies. He figured that if the cuff they clapped on his wrist was keeping him from using his powers, then it was probably keeping him from healing too. The scourge had gone through skin and muscle alike, and as Dean examined further, he saw several spots it had gone to the bone.

He swallowed several times, and hurriedly tore off his flannel over shirt, pressing it to Cas' back in an attempt to stop some of the bleeding. Cas arched his back in pain and didn't even bother trying to bite back the scream that tore from his throat this time. Tears pricked in Dean's eyes at the sound.

"I'm sorry buddy, I gotta stop the bleeding," he whispered, lowering one hand to the back of Cas' neck, squeezing comfortingly. The angel had buried his face in Dean's side, one hand clutching his t-shirt, knuckles white, his breathing hitched as his whole body tensed in pain.

"I'm sorry," Cas whispered again. "Dean, I'm sorry, I—I think I'm going to pass out." Before Dean could reply he went completely limp, obviously unconscious.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief and positioned Cas into a more comfortable position, turning him onto his side so he could still keep pressure on his back, and pillowing his head on his good knee before he slumped back, head hitting the wall as he closed his eyes. How the hell were they going to get out of this situation?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam dialed Dean's number for about the twentieth time, then Cas', and then finally gave up and slammed the phone down on the table with a curse, shakily pacing a few steps away from the table, and running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. He hated this, being stuck back at the bunker while Dean and Cas were out there looking for a way to finish the Trials he had started. And now he couldn't get a hold of either of them, though he had been calling for hours. The rational part of his brain told him that they were supposed to be up in the mountains, and that it was very likely there was no cell signal up there, but his gut was telling him that they were in trouble, and he had no way of finding out what had happened or how to get to them.

On top of that, his worry only seemed to be increasing his symptoms. He was both hot and freezing, sweating, but wrapped in a blanket, and he coughed blood into his fist again.

"Damn," he muttered as he grabbed the bottle of Tylenol on the table and threw back a couple more pills with his coffee. It didn't really help, but he liked to think it would. He hated feeling helpless like this, not knowing what was going on, and unable to do anything about it. He could of course take one of the other cars in the bunker and go after them, but he knew he wouldn't make it two miles down the road. His head was pounding, he felt like he was going to vomit, and he was dizzy sitting down most of the time, let alone when he was on his feet.

He dialed Dean's number again and once again got the voicemail. "Dean, call me when you get this," he pleaded, before ending the call and pressing his knuckles to his lips in worry, hoping Dean and Cas hadn't found trouble. Anyone could be gunning for them, the angels, Crowley, other parties they didn't even know about who had somehow gotten wind of the angel tablet. Nausea suddenly struck him as a thought occurred. No one may be able to find the tablet where it was, but that certainly wouldn't stop them from getting the information another way, and if they had both Cas and Dean to use against each other… Sam didn't even want to think about it. He overturned a stack of books in a very Dean-like fashion in frustration, then almost ended up on the floor as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He gripped the back of a chair and breathed deeply as he waited for his vision to clear and the ground to stop roiling under him.

He sat down carefully afterward with a sigh, looking at his phone, which had yet to ring.

"Come on, Dean, you promised me you wouldn't get killed, you jerk," he muttered then lowered his aching head into his hands, furious that the only thing he could do was wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain, it was all pain, red, hot, agonizing pain. Had he passed out? Castiel scrambled for consciousness, knowing he needed to be awake. He needed to protect Dean. He gasped, trying to move, but that only made the agony ten times worse, and there was a low curse above him, and a hand on his shoulder, pressing him down.

"Cas, dammit, stay still, I just got the bleeding to stop," Dean grumbled, and Cas blinked his eyes open. He was lying on the floor of the small room they had been brought to, his cheek propped up on Dean's denim-clad knee as he lay on his side, his back facing the hunter. He felt a nagging, painful pressure against his flayed back and fought the urge to arch away, knowing Dean was trying to stop the bleeding of his wounds.

"Have…have they been back yet?" Cas asked, his voice hoarse and foreign to his ears.

"No, you've been out for a couple hours," Dean said, sounding tired. Cas blinked his eyes and shifted, trying to turn around so he could look at Dean.

"Cas, stop."

"It's fine," he grunted, but even as he said that, he couldn't move another inch, his breath catching in his throat as the pain consumed him, making spots dance before his eyes. It was the warding on the cuff that was keeping him from healing. But even then, though he had broken his tie with Naomi, he was not at full power; cut off from heaven once again.

"You are not fine," Dean grunted blandly but Castiel only shifted again, wanting to face Dean to talk to him. "Alright, hold on." Dean finally sighed resignedly and Castiel felt him shift slightly. Dean took hold of Castiel's shoulder and pressed the flannel into his back more firmly as he eased Castiel over so he was now lying on his back. The pain overtook him for a moment, blackening his vision, but once he had settled, it was actually better, and now he could see Dean's face, his head propped on the hunter's thigh.

"Better?" Dean asked gruffly.

Castiel sighed and closed his eyes. Dean raised a hand as if to rub it over his face and then seemed to realize it was covered in Cas' blood and instead, scrubbed it absently against his jeans, leaving russet smears. The hunter swallowed hard, and shook his head before meeting Cas' gaze. "Why'd you do that?"

"Why shouldn't I have?" Castiel asked him, glaring at the human. Sometimes Dean could be so infuriatingly defensive. "You saw what it did to me, you would be dead by now if Mendiel had scourged you. He is not used to interrogating humans, you wouldn't have lasted ten seconds."

"Geez, thanks for your vote of confidence," Dean grunted defensively.

Castiel flattened his lips into a thin line. "You shouldn't have come here, Dean. I should have had you stay with Sam. It's my fault we got captured."

"Yeah, I'm not gonna let you blame yourself, Cas," Dean said. "No more of that. No more of that penance crap you were spouting in Purgatory, we're gonna talk straight here. This Trial stuff, it needs to end before it kills all of us."

"Exactly, which is why I regret bringing my issues into this as well. If I hadn't brought the angel tablet to the bunker, none of this would have happened. I should have stayed on the run. You certainly should not have agreed to help me."

Dean huffed in annoyance. "I helped you because I don't think anyone should have these tablets either. The less we have to worry about while we're trying to lock up Hell, the better. But that's not the whole reason, I helped you because I'm your friend, you stupid bastard. Cas, man, you're like a brother to me, and I know I haven't done a lot to show that lately, but that doesn't mean I've ever stopped thinking it. And I'm not going to sit back and watch you sacrifice yourself for me again. I just got you back, man."

Cas sighed heavily. Dean's devotion touched him. Dean and Sam and Bobby Singer had taken him in when he thought he had no family left; their "Team Free Will" as Dean called it had been the only thing that had kept him going when he had been cut off from heaven during the apocalypse, thus losing the only family he had ever known because he no longer believed in their principals. To have brothers again had been a blessing that he still couldn't quite believe he had deserved. And the fact that Dean still felt this way even after what had happened in the crypt when Castiel had nearly beaten him to death was inspiring to say the least. Dean had sat there on his knees, hand held in front of him, pleading with him to stop, and yet still called him family in the same breath. There was a reason Castiel fought so hard to protect Sam and Dean. Because their devotion to him was always staggering, even when he knew he didn't deserve it. But family was like that; if he had learned nothing else from the Winchesters, it was that family might grieve you more than anything, but at the end of the day, you should never give up on them, because they were always there to pick up the pieces when you needed them the most. Sometimes, he did wonder whether he pushed himself so much out of his need for 'penance' that Dean mentioned, but upon examination, he knew it wasn't that at all. Not when it came to Sam and Dean. They were his family and he would always fight for them, no matter what.

"And that's why I've gotta ask you something, and I need you to be straight with me about it," Dean continued, brows furrowed as he looked at Castiel. "You didn't just pull that stunt in there because you felt guilty about what happened in the crypt did you?"

Castiel was taken aback, not only by the words, but by the look of—what was it, exactly?—pain, indignation, and maybe even a little of the guilt that Dean was accusing Castiel of.

"How could you think that?" the angel demanded, wincing as he tried to lever himself up onto an elbow but gave up and simply slumped back, frowning up at Dean. "You think I did that because I felt guilty?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably, staring at the opposite wall, but he kept his jaw firm, trying not to betray any emotion. "I don't really know what to think, Cas. I already told you it wasn't your fault, we both know Naomi—"

"Do you think that makes it any better?" Castiel snapped, tensing in anger and making his back smart. "Do you think it matters to me when it was still my hands with your blood of them? Dean, if I hadn't touched the tablet—"

"Cas, it's okay," Dean said, holding a hand out in appeal. "I told you I don't blame you, but, hell, that doesn't mean I want you to sacrifice yourself for me!"

"Dean, you are not the only one allowed to sacrifice yourself," he told the hunter angrily.

"I never said that!" Dean shouted back. "It's just I don't know what is up with you lately, man. I mean, first you stay behind in Purgatory, and then after hauling ass to the four corners, you show up at our door and ask me to shove the fricken' tablet in you that you were previously determined to keep away from me. And now you want to play human shield." He shook his head, facial expression tight, and his eyes betraying the raw emotion he was trying to keep at bay as he finally met Castiel's gaze again. "Are you trying to freaking kill yourself? Is that it?"

"Dean, I am sorry I made you do that," Castiel said, the haunted look Dean had carried after the impromptu surgery still giving him pangs of remorse. "And I'm not trying to kill myself."

"Oh really?" Dean scoffed. "Because you're acting pretty damn suicidal. And you told me before that if you remembered everything you had done when you had the Leviathans in you, that you might just eat a bullet."

Castiel frowned, seeing Dean's unveiled concern. He hadn't meant to cause his friend distress with that comment. Had it been true? Yes—he would never forget what he had done in heaven to his brothers and sisters there; he would carry that with him forever. But he had another mission, a reason to live. Protecting the Winchesters had gone back to being his rule number one; in order to do that, then he had to stay alive. But in reality, they were just humans and he was an angel; he could survive in situations where they couldn't, and while that might look suicidal, it wasn't any more so than the sacrifices Sam and Dean made for each other on a daily basis.

"I'm not…suicidal, Dean," Castiel said slowly. "Nor am I doing this out of any guilt. More a determination that I won't let something like Naomi, the scene in the crypt, happen again. I only ask that you will allow me to protect you for as long as I am able, because this is the only thing I can do, and I am your guardian in case you have forgotten. I cannot let you die under my charge. Sam needs you right now. I don't think he will get through the Trials without your support."

"Or yours!" Dean protested. "Cas, we—"

"Dean, please," Cas cut in wearily. "If it's not too much to ask, I would like to rest while I can, and I suggest you do the same. It is not going to get any easier when they come back."

Dean opened his mouth as if he were going to protest, but then snapped it shut. "Fine."

Castiel gave a soundless sigh and closed his eyes. He winced slightly as Dean shifted into a more comfortable position, hissing as his leg was jostled. "I'm sorry I can't heal your leg," Castiel said quietly.

"Hell, Cas, I think you've done enough for one day," Dean said, sounding exhausted, and he soon fell into a fitful sleep.

Castiel watched him for a while, the hunter's chin dipped toward his chest in slumber, before he allowed the burning agony of his back to fade into something more akin to a dull throbbing and welcomed the blackness that came with it.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel and Dean were woken an indeterminate amount of time later when the door to the closet was opened and Naomi stood in the doorway, the other angels behind her.

"I hope you had time to think about your options," Naomi said.

Castiel forced himself up onto one elbow, clenching his teeth against the pain that suddenly ripped through his back at the motion. He tried to put as much of himself as he could between them and Dean, but couldn't get there before Mendiel was in the room. The interrogator gave the hunter a vicious kick in the hip to rouse him completely. Dean grunted and stared groggily up at the sneering angel.

"Back for round two?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Because you're wasting your time, we're not talking."

Castiel wanted to tell him to shut up, but it wouldn't do any good, and he knew with a sinking feeling, he wasn't going to be able to protect Dean much longer. He was injured too badly and without his powers or his ability to heal, he was practically worthless, but he vowed that he would protect Dean to his last breath all the same. It was looking more and more like he wasn't going to make it out of this one. But he could at least make sure Dean did. That was what was most important, no matter what Dean seemed to think. Sam needed Dean to finish the Trials and closing Hell was their most important priority at the moment. Besides, if he could somehow get Dean out of there, then Naomi wouldn't have any leverage over him.

"I was hoping you might have a different opinion," Naomi said with false regret in her voice. "But it matters little. We will have our answers one way or another. Mendiel, take the Winchester boy, you two, get Castiel onto his feet."

Castiel reached out for Dean, grabbing his sleeve and was about to shove him behind him in a repeat of yesterday, but Mendiel reached down and grabbed Dean by the front of his shirt and hauled him up, at the same time, kicking Castiel in the chest and forcing him onto his damaged back, drawing a yelp of pain from the angel, accompanied by Dean's howl as his broken leg was forced into service.

"You get your hands off of me, you son of a bitch," Dean snarled, voice laced with pain.

"Can't do that, I'm afraid," Medial said, not sounding sorry at all, as he dragged Dean out of the closet and back to the large conference room that they had been in before. Castiel was also yanked to his feet, his vision blurring at the unspeakable pain that ripped through his body from the violent movement. Daniel and Ion dragged him along after Mendiel and Dean, Naomi following behind in a businesslike manner.

Castiel felt vaguely sickened as he saw the corner of the room he had been flogged in the day before. Dried blood painted the wall all around the spot he and Dean had been crouched. It had obviously been left as a gory reminder of what his refusal had wrought. He felt even sicker as he realized it was only going to get worse. Maybe today it would be Dean's blood spattering the wall, and him unable to stop it. Castiel began to really think about his options, and about what the angel tablet was really worth when put up against Dean. Against family.

Mendiel wasted no time in throwing Dean several yards into the wall, and Dean slammed into it before crashing to the floor, gasping for the breath that had been forced from his body and rolling on the floor in pain, trying to force himself up on his elbows. Mendiel jammed a foot between his shoulder blades to keep Dean still, face pressed into the ground.

Castiel fought the urge to protest, knowing anything he said would likely only make it worse for Dean. Naomi had pulled up a chair and Ion and Daniel shoved him into it, facing the spot where Mendiel was currently scraping Dean up from the floor and shoving him against the wall again, holding him up by his shirt so that his feet didn't touch the ground. He smiled a sadistic leer up at the hunter and winked.

"Now here's how it's going to go, Winchester. You scream, and we'll see how fast we can get Castiel to talk, sound good?"

Castiel struggled in the chair, ignoring the ripping pain in his back, but Ion and Daniel each had a hand on his shoulder and held him back.

"Cas," Dean growled. "Don't tell them anything. Don't—" He grunted as Mendiel buried a damaging fist into his gut with a force that nearly folded him in half. Castiel tensed, but was shoved firmly into the chair again.

"That tickled," Dean wheezed, forcing a smirk at the angel, before Mendiel sneered and threw him into the ground. Castiel cringed as Dean's head bounced off the floor, and watched in horror as Mendiel ground the heel of his foot into Dean's broken leg. The human howled, writhing in agony, which only encouraged Mendiel to press harder.

"Stop this!" Castiel finally shouted at them, once again making an attempt to get out of the chair. Every one of Dean's shouts of pain boring into him like knives, making him feel like he was failing his duty.

"It's simple, Castiel," Naomi said, circling around to crouch in front of Castiel's chair while Mendiel continued to throw Dean around and beat him with punishing blows, making Castiel more and more frantic by the second. "You tell us where the tablet is, and I'll call Mendiel off."

Mendiel slung Dean across the table so that he collapsed in a pile of turned chairs a few feet from Castiel, groaning and making an attempt to get up, but didn't get the chance before Mendiel vaulted over the table after him and yanked him up by the back of his shirt. He slammed Dean against the table top, smashing his face against it several times before he flipped him around onto his back and pressed the point of his blade up under his ribs, his other hand around Dean's neck, choking him.

"Better tell, Castiel, or I'll stick my blade into Dean Winchester's spleen and I don't think that will be a pleasant experience for him."

"C-Cas, no," Dean choked out, gasping as Mendiel's blade slid a few centimeters into his body.

Castiel hung his head in defeat before pulling himself up in anger, focusing it onto Mendiel with a steely gaze before he turned it toward Naomi. There was no way he could let them kill Dean for this. The angel tablet might be important, but it wasn't worth his friend's life. Not to him. He was done sacrificing everything he cared about.

"Fine," he growled out.

"Cas, don't!" Dean tried before Mendiel squeezed his throat harder and Dean choked, eyes rolling up in his head as his body spasmed with the need for air, clawing weakly at the angel's hand.

"Let him go, and I'll tell you," Castiel demanded.

Naomi looked skeptical, and Dean's breathless gasps continued to sound through the room.

"Let him go, Naomi, or you'll get nothing from me!"

Naomi conceded and turned, motioning impatiently to Mendiel who reluctantly released his hold on Dean and yanked him carelessly onto the floor where Dean collapsed into a heap, gagging and groaning. Castiel wanted nothing more than to go to him and heal his injuries, but Naomi was in his face again, bending over him with her hands on the arms of his chair.

"Well, spit it out, Castiel. Where is the tablet?"

"Cas, don't tell them!"

"I have it with me," Castiel said, ignoring Dean who was currently spitting out profanities along with gobs of blood. Castiel hoped the blood was only from some cuts to Dean's mouth and not internal injuries.

Naomi struck Castiel across the face with a sneer. "Do you take me for a fool? We searched you!"

Castiel turned his eyes back up to her, allowing a small indulgent smile to turn up one corner of his mouth. Naomi didn't like that at all. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out. It was the tablet that broke my ties to you, after all. You know that, don't you? You must have tried to re-take my mind, tried to hack it, find out where I was, right?" By the furious look on the angel's face, Castiel knew he had been right. "Why do you think you couldn't? It only really works when I touch the tablet, so why would I hide it somewhere?"

"Search him again," Naomi snapped, "Tear that coat apart by the seems."

Castiel was roughly dragged from the chair, the torn and blood-soaked trench coat yanked from his shoulders as he fought to keep from shouting at the agony that tore through him from the motion. He felt oddly saddened to see them tear his coat apart, having become rather attached to it, though he knew he could repair it later. If they got out of here alive. Right now it was buying them time. For what, he didn't know, he was hoping for a miracle, or some idea of how to escape to spring upon him.

Dean was currently dragging himself along the ground while Mendiel was distracted by watching the search, reaching for the weapons that had been taken from him that were currently resting on the tabletop. Castiel didn't know what he was trying, but he was ready to join the attack if he got the chance. Unfortunately, Mendiel spotted Dean and snarled, kicking him in his damaged torso before leaning down and grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking him painfully up to his knees, his blade pressing into the soft part of his throat.

"Stay!" the angel snarled mockingly.

Dean grit his teeth, one arm folded over his chest, likely clutching at broken ribs, the other gripping Mendiel's wrist in an attempt to take a little pressure off his scalp. His face was masked in silent trepidation as Ion and Daniel finished tearing Castiel's coat apart, throwing it to the ground in disgust.

Naomi was in Castiel's face instantly, her own blade drawn and pricking the underside of the angel's chin with it.

"You must not take me seriously, Castiel. If you do not tell me where it is, I will have Mendiel start breaking every bone in Dean Winchester's body."

As if to prove the point, Mendiel shoved Dean down again onto his belly and put a firm heel against the hunter's left wrist. Dean ground his teeth as the angel applied warning pressure.

"I hid it where I'd never risk losing it," Castiel said simply as Dean shouted at him again not to say anything. The hunter was far too brash for his own good.

"I'm getting tired of your games, Castiel," Naomi said resignedly as she waved to Mendiel.

The interrogator stomped on Dean's wrist at the same moment Castiel shouted, "Stop!"

Dean's scream echoed his shout and Castiel turned back to Naomi, trying to keep the desperate look from his face.

"Stop, Naomi," he commanded. "I hid the tablet inside my vessel. Now please, do what you want with me, I'll let you have the tablet, but let Dean go."

Naomi scowled, holding up a hand to give Mendiel the signal to stop torturing Dean, cocking an eyebrow at Castiel. "Were you really that desperate to be rid of my influence, Castiel?" she scoffed. "I only ever wanted to help you."

"Even you don't believe that," Castiel told her firmly.

"Well then, I suppose we'll have to retrieve the tablet," she said matter-of-factly, nodding to the others. "You always have to make things so difficult, Castiel, and you have no one to blame but yourself. Get him on the table."

"No!" Dean yelled, trying to get to his feet, but Naomi waved a dismissive hand to Mendiel.

"Make sure he doesn't interfere," she said.

Dean struggled, throwing several punches at Mendiel before the angel shoved him into a chair and held him down with one hand clamped onto his shoulder. Even with only one good leg and likely several broken ribs, Dean still put up a fight.

Castiel only saw that much before Ion and Daniel had him by the arms and were pulling him from his own chair, manhandling him onto the table. He grunted as the hard surface pressed painfully into his back. He wanted to put up a fight, but there was no point. He wasn't going to stop them now, and they would only hurt Dean more if he fought. The angels were throwing ropes across his body to tie him down, one across his shoulders, another across his hips, and a final one that they threaded under his back and bound his hands at his sides so he could hardly move and if he did, the rope bit into his flayed back. He began to feel panic flutter in his chest. He was doing this for Dean, but that didn't mean it wasn't going to be frightening and painful. It had been bad enough asking Dean to put the tablet inside of him, when he'd had the two people he trusted most in the world at his side, but Naomi and the others wouldn't care about hurting him. All they cared about was retrieving the tablet.

By the time Daniel and Ion had finished tying him up, Naomi had removed her jacket and rolled her sleeves up, and came to stand by the table, looking down at Castiel. He squirmed under her scrutiny as she gave a small weary sigh as if he were a disobedient child.

"I always seem to be elbows deep in you, Castiel," she said as she began to unbutton his shirt, pulling it open to expose his torso. "It's becoming a habit."

Daniel came over with a roll of cloth, which he opened for Naomi on the table beside Castiel. The angel swallowed hard as he saw it contained surgical implements, ones made of the same metal as the angel blades—he had become all too acquainted with these during various sessions of torture at Naomi's hands. He couldn't remember everything, but vague images flashed in his mind along with echoes of agonizing stabs through his head: pain and fear, and all the while Naomi telling him it was for his own good.

He chanced a look at Dean, who gave him a desperate look, which turned to steely disgust as Mendiel leaned down, nearly pressing his cheek to the hunter's, the tip of his angel blade digging into Dean's collarbone.

"Front row seats, Winchester." Then Mendiel looked up to meet Castiel's eyes. "Poor Castiel, you know it's not going to be pleasant."

Castiel chose not to say anything. Naomi chose a thin scalpel and lowered it toward his stomach, making a clean, surgical cut. Cas dropped his head back against the table and choked on a scream, before he was consumed with agony.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean watched in horror, unable to move a muscle as Naomi sliced into Cas, and Mendiel stood behind his chair, digging his blade into Dean's chest. Cas shuddered in pain, trying to bite back the cries he wanted to let out but was too proud to. At least Ion and Daniel had the grace to look sickened by Naomi's actions, but then neither seemed quite the sadistic bastard Mendiel was.

But Dean had a plan. Whether the angels kept the tablet or not, he and Cas were getting out of there. Mendiel had been too busy beating the crap out of him to notice when Dean lifted the key to Cas' manacle from the angel's pocket. And one of the knives he had been relieved of previously. He had somehow managed to hold onto the key even when Mendiel had broken his wrist, and even now it was clutched in his left hand. Now all he needed was a distraction of some kind so he could untie Cas and get the cuff off of him. The only thing he was worried about was that even without the cuff Cas wouldn't have enough juice to get them even a mile away. He had really taken several dozen for the team this time.

He was broken from his musing as Cas let out a strangled whimper.

"There we are," Naomi said with a small smile, as she pulled the wound in Cas' abdomen wider and reached in to pull out the tablet. Cas finally screamed, trying to writhe away from the pain but the ropes kept him tightly bound, and Naomi determinedly twisted the tablet free and pulled it out of Cas. She handed it to Ion who held it gingerly, looking disgusted by the gore that covered it. Naomi grabbed a cloth and wiped her hands on it.

"There, now that wasn't so hard, was it?" she addressed the barely conscious angel who was shuddering in what looked like shock, eyes rolled so far back in his head that only the whites showed.

"Cas!" Dean shouted, not caring about the tablet at all. He just cared that his friend was lying there on the table with his frickin' guts hanging out and obviously unconscious, or at least incoherent. Not to mention in unbelievable agony.

"Now, let's get this back to where it belongs," Naomi said.

"Not so fast, love, I'd like to take a gander at it myself."

Everyone spun to the door where Crowley of all people was standing, hands nonchalantly in pockets, viewing the scene with vague interest.

"Crowley," Naomi spat.

"Naomi, long time no see," Crowley said, giving her a wink, before he pulled a small pistol from one pocket and pointed it over Naomi's shoulder before shooting Daniel in the chest. The angel fell with a shout, and Crowley turned to Ion who had yet to move and shot him in the arm, causing him to stagger back. Mendiel growled and raised his angel blade as if to charge Crowley, but the demon only nonchalantly shot him low in the hip, dropping him instantly.

Dean looked from the groaning Mendiel up to the demon who had been his unintentional savior. Maybe. It was at the very least the distraction that he had been waiting for. Wasting no time while Naomi was distracted, Dean slid from the chair, trying to keep from yelling at the pain his injuries were causing. Mendiel tried to grab at him, but Dean only kicked him in the face with his good leg, and the angel slumped, seeming to be unconscious. Dean made his way painfully over toward Cas at a slow crawl, only having one hand he could put any pressure on and dragging his bad leg. Yeah, this was an awesome rescue attempt.

"Like it?" Crowley asked, holding the pistol up for Naomi to see. "Had it crafted special, the bullets are made from a melted down angel blade."

"How dare you?" Naomi snarled at him.

"I'm the daringest devil you've ever met, love," Crowley told her with a smirk.

Dean had reached Cas and touched his arm to let him know he was there. Cas started and his eyes slitted open, widening slightly as they saw Dean. The hunter held up the key he had swiped from Mendiel with a grin and Cas nodded. Dean slid the key into the lock on the sigiled cuff. It was difficult to only have one hand to work with but eventually it opened with a little snik and Dean yanked it from Cas' wrist. He then pulled the knife from the back of his jeans and started to cut the ropes that held Cas pinned to the table.

"How ya doin', Cas?" he asked quietly. "You think you can fly us out of here?"

"I'll—I'll try," Cas rasped.

Dean had finished with the ropes and was in the process of gathering up his and Cas' weapons along with the torn trench coat when Crowley and Naomi seemed to be reaching the end of their tete-a-tete.

"I see you found exactly what I was looking for," the demon was saying, as he strolled over to Ion who was clutching his arm and still had the angel tablet in his hands. "I'll be taking the tablet, thank you very much." He reached out and snagged it from Ion, leveling the pistol at Naomi while she fumed at him. "Now, I suggest you leave if you want to keep your fetching self alive, sweetheart."

"This isn't over," she snapped and disappeared.

Crowley pocketed the pistol again with a satisfied expression, kicking Daniel in the face as the angel tried to struggle upright, before the demon strode over to Cas and Dean, eyebrows raised.

"What happened here? Game of Operation gone bad?"

"Leave him alone, Crowley," Dean said, gripping Cas' angel blade and hauling himself to his feet, or foot. The broken leg was dragging behind him and he had to lean against the table to stay upright.

"Hello, Squirrel, fancy seeing you here," Crowley said, wrinkling his nose at the state of the tablet he held, and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe it off. "Looks like I got here just in time."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean demanded as he wadded up Cas' trench coat and tried to press it to the gaping wound in the angel's stomach. Even though the cuff was off now, he didn't seem to be healing which worried Dean. Cas arched his back and groaned.

"Had a tip about the angel tablet," Crowley said, nodding to Ion who was clutching his wounded shoulder, grimacing and glowering at the demon. "Angel on the payroll. I know, what's the world coming to, right?" He walked over to look down at Cas, pulling a face. "Not to raise any alarms, but you might want to get that looked at."

Dean watched the demon carefully, knowing that he wasn't just sticking around because he had nothing better to do. "Yeah, we were just leaving."

"So soon?" Crowley asked, raising his eyebrows. "I thought you might sit and chat for a while, Dean. Or you can sit and scream, it's really up to you. Either way I find myself in a very fortunate situation. I was thinking to myself: self, what would stop Moose from closing the gates to my kingdom?" He strode slowly toward Dean. "And then I thought to myself: self, why, threatening to kill his brother if he didn't, of course. And here you go, Dean, walking right into my hands."

Dean blanched and held the angel blade more firmly. "Yeah, not gonna happen."

Crowley smiled indulgently. "Really? Because it looks to me like I have the upper hand here, and you two can't even run."

"Don't be so sure, Crowley," Cas ground out and Dean felt the angel's hand clamp around his arm before they were suddenly tossed through a vertigo-inducing motion that spit them out on the other side more violently than expected. Dean rolled across the ground several times and promptly emptied his stomach. Okay, that had not been fun. Angel travel had never exactly been pleasant, but it hadn't been that bad.

"What the hell, Cas?" he groaned, as he pushed himself up with his good hand, seeing they had landed back at the hotel in Colorado. The Impala was parked only feet away and Dean sat staring at the surroundings, instantly catching sight of a bloody heap curled against the front tire, unmoving.

"Cas?" Dean's stomach plummeted as he dragged himself along the ground to Cas' side, rolling him over to see his face. He swallowed hard, fighting back the nausea, and slipped a hand behind the angel's head, raising it as he pressed his fingers under his chin to feel for a pulse.

"Cas, hey, buddy, show me some life, okay?"

A groan escaped Cas' throat, along with some blood dribbling between his lips and down his cheek. Dean carefully wiped it away and watched with a pained expression as the clouded blue eyes opened.

"That's it," Dean coaxed.

Cas gave another groan and tipped his head to one side slightly as he raised a hand to touch his stomach. Dean caught it quickly, shaking his head.

"I don't think you wanna do that. We're gonna need to get you back, stitched up. You'll be good as new soon enough, though, promise." He forced a smile, which was hard, with a fat lip and possible busted cheekbone that was quickly sealing one eye shut. "But we got outta there, right? That's a win." Of course, he was trying to figure out how the hell he was going to drive with a busted leg and a busted wrist.

Cas looked up at him with pity even past the pain he had to be feeling. "Yes. I'm sorry that happened, Dean. You were hurt very badly, despite my best efforts."

"Cas, I told you it's not your fault," Dean tried to say as the angel shook his head slightly and reached up to grab the front of his shirt, pulling him down toward him. "Dude, what are you…?" Dean began before Cas raised his other hand and pressed two fingers to his forehead. Dean's whole body spasmed as energy shot through him. Unlike all the times Cas had healed him before, this felt forced, and it hurt, really, friggin' hurt, kind of like the angel travel had. Dean let out a strangled yell and then collapsed against the side of the Impala, panting and aching as Cas' hand fell away to land with a dull thud against the ground. He quickly took stock of the state of his body. Everything was healed, but it had felt like "real-time" healing not the normal everything but the kitchen sink healing that usually happened when Cas healed him. He could still feel some discomfort when he rotated his wrist and upon further inspection there were still pale bruises over his torso, though his ribs weren't cracked anymore. It felt like Dean had just gotten three weeks of rack time instead of the fresh beating he had sustained, which he was definitely grateful for, but the fact that Cas couldn't heal him entirely back to new was enough to raise several red flags. As he caught his breath, he looked down at Cas and saw that the angel was completely limp. He growled and took his face between his hands, looking down quickly and was horrified to see he was bleeding more than he had been before.

"Cas, you stupid son of a bitch, don't you dare!" he shouted, shaking his friend slightly, but Cas was down for the count. Dean cursed again and grabbed his discarded trench coat and folded it into a compress, which he pressed against Cas' stomach again. Then he pulled his keys from his pocket and hurried to the trunk, grabbing several blankets. There was no first aid he could do for Cas here, it would be better to just haul ass back to the bunker and get him taken care of where they had all their resources.

"Okay, let's get going," Dean muttered to the unconscious angel as he opened the back of the Impala and laid some blankets down, rolling another up for a pillow, before he hauled Cas up and with a lot of grunting and maneuvering, managed to get him lying down in the back seat. It would have been much easier with another set of hands. Which reminded him, Sam was gonna be pissed he hadn't checked in. He only hoped the kid hadn't done anything stupid.

As if on cue, a ringing sounded near his feet and he quickly looked down to see his cell phone lying half under the car. He must have lost it in the struggle when they were captured. He grabbed it, seeing Sam's name on the caller ID as he hurried to get into the driver's seat and started the car, peeling out of the hotel parking lot and back to Kansas as he answered the phone.

"Sam," he said.

"Dean? Where the hell have you been?!" Sam's tirade was cut short with a coughing fit and Dean closed his eyes, squeezing the phone tight at the sound. "I've been calling non-stop since yesterday!"

"Yeah, we kinda ran into some trouble. Listen, Cas is hurt real bad, I want you to get stuff ready to take care of him if you can; just set up the surgery again, okay? We'll be back in a few hours."

"What happened?" Sam asked worriedly, before he started coughing again.

"Sam—Sammy," Dean tried to cut in. "Hey, kiddo, just relax. We'll be back soon and I'll tell you everything then, but right now I need to concentrate on driving. See ya." He hung up before Sam could protest, his chest tightening even more. Sam was getting worse, and the anxiety of not knowing where his brother and friend were hadn't helped. And Cas was lying in the back seat, seeming too spent to heal himself, and Dean couldn't do a thing about it. The only thing he could do was drive so that's what he did, the Impala eating up the miles as he made his way back home.


	5. Chapter 5

Even though Dean was flooring it the whole way, the drive back to the bunker seemed to take an eternity. He kept glancing at Cas in the backseat of the Impala, but the angel hadn't shown any sign of life since he had passed out and the hunter was getting increasingly worried about him. Maybe he was just 'recharging'. In the past, Cas had fallen into a coma-like state when he was badly injured to help the healing process, but Dean suspected it was more like he had simply exerted too much energy getting them out and then healing Dean into the bargain. Of course, Dean wouldn't have been able to drive if he hadn't, but that didn't mean he wasn't entitled to be frustrated that Cas was always sacrificing so much.

Finally, he barreled down the last stretch of road, and screeched to a halt at the entrance to the bunker. He didn't bother getting Sam first, and simply opened the back door and slid Cas out, still wrapped in the blanket he had tucked around him, and slipped his arms under the angel's knees and shoulders, groaning at Cas' dead weight.

"I know there's supposed to be the whole 'he ain't heavy, he's my brother' thing, but couldn't you have picked a lighter vessel?" he grunted as he staggered toward the entrance with his burden and somehow managed to get the door open.

"Sam!" he yelled as soon as he came in the door, carefully making his way down the stairs without slipping or dropping Cas. In a few seconds, his brother appeared, looking horrible, a blanket around his shoulders and dark circles under his eyes.

"Dean, thank God! Where have you been? What happened to Cas?"

"Naomi caught us, he's hurt real bad. They found the angel tablet."

Sam's eyes widened and he tried to offer as much help as he could to Dean, but didn't currently have enough energy to help him carry the angel, so Dean instead sent him ahead to the surgery ward.

Dean was worried that Cas hadn't showed any signs of life since he had passed out or whatever. He wished the idiot hadn't tried to heal him, even though Dean was pretty sure he had been bordering on internal damage from some of Mendiel's hits, definitely a few broken ribs.

He staggered into the surgery with his burden and was glad to see that Sam had already set out everything they could possibly need beside the table. But the younger Winchester could hardly keep his feet, swaying so much he had to grip the side of the table just to stay upright. Dean bit his lip.

"Sammy, go sit down before you fall down," Dean grunted at him as he tried not to simply drop Cas onto the metal table.

"I'm good," Sam informed firmly.

"Yeah, sure," Dean snorted, casting a quick, evaluating glance over his brother, and not liking what he saw at all. But Cas was in more critical condition at the moment and so Sam was going to have to wait for a little bit longer.

"Get me a couple towels," Dean told Sam and the younger brother went to fetch them, eager to do something to help their wounded friend. Dean turned his full attention to Cas, first peeling back the blanket and then he carefully took the folded trench coat away from Cas' stomach and swallowed back bile as he felt it was heavy and dark with blood. He shook himself, and got down to business grabbing some medical scissors from the nearby tray and simply cut what was left of Cas' shirt off.

Sam came back with the towels and gaped as he saw the state their angel was in. Dean ignored him for the moment then nodded to the towels Sam held in his shaking hands.

"Slip one under his back when I lift him," Dean said.

Sam did as he was told but couldn't hide his shock when Dean rolled Cas onto his side and revealed his ruined back, peeling the rest of his shirt away as he did.

"What happened?" Sam demanded, looking like he was going to be sick.

Dean swallowed hard. "Naomi had him whipped…it was supposed to be me, actually, but Cas kind of, um—dude, he frickin' shielded me with his body." Dean's voice broke as he remembered the blind devotion and protection Cas had offered him.

Sam was speechless, looking like he was blinking tears from his eyes, but Dean cleared his throat and fortified himself for what he had to do. He clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Go wash up. I'm gonna need someone to hand me stuff."

He turned his attention fully to the wound in Cas' stomach for the first time, and swallowed hard. Upon closer examination, however, it seemed that it was starting to heal already, though very very slowly, and Dean wasn't about to leave it like that and hope for the best after Cas had spent the last of his healing mojo on him.

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked as he came back.

Dean set his jaw as he began to thread a needle for sutures. "I don't know if I can fix any internal damage, but if I can at least stop the bleeding a little and close the wound up, he should be able to do the rest himself. Apart from that, I don't know, man. If he doesn't heal within several days, like last time, then we may have to either take him to the hospital or call in someone who knows what they're doing."

"Do we even know anyone we can trust?" Sam asked.

"Not really," Dean replied bitterly, and took a deep breath as he surveyed the wound and tried to distance himself. "Okay, here we go."

He never really got used to the feeling of a needle punching through flesh. Sure, he could sew up anything, even on himself, but it was always hard to have to do it to someone he cared about. Dean had hoped he would never have to do something like this again, for Cas at least. But yeah, he should have known better. At least this time he hadn't been the one to make the wounds. Of course, he could argue they had been his fault since Cas had gotten them protecting him. He swallowed back the guilt that spread like a sluggish poison through his chest. He couldn't afford to guilt trip himself, or have any emotions at the moment. He had to get Cas' wounds taken care of. He had a job and he would do it.

Sam watched with a pained expression as Dean tied off the third suture. "He's gonna need a lot of stitches. Do you want me to help?" he asked, obviously needing something to do.

Dean cast a pointed look at his shaking hands, which only made Sam slump further, then Dean cleared his throat. "You can keep the blood away from my work area," he suggested instead.

Sam gratefully grabbed some gauze and dabbed at the wound wherever it was sluggishly bleeding and the two brothers worked in silence until all the sutures had been tied off.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he had finished the last suture and seemed to have for the most part successfully stopped the bleeding.

"Okay, can you help me turn him onto his side so I can take care of his back?" he asked Sam as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, hoping he hadn't smeared blood there. He was sweating like nobody's business.

"Sure," the younger Winchester took Cas' shoulder and knee and pulled him toward him so he was lying on his side, his back to Dean.

Dean still cringed as he saw the lash marks, Cas' back pretty much torn to shreds. He bent and inspected the wounds more closely, grabbing some gauze and dabbing at spots to try and clean the clotted blood away so he could see how bad it really was.

"Dammit," he spat as he started some wounds bleeding afresh. Sam simply handed him more gauze.

Upon further inspection, Dean realized with building dismay that fabric fibers from Cas' clothes had been driven into his wounds from the prolonged flogging, since they hadn't bothered to strip him first. He cursed and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Dean?" Sam inquired.

"I'm good," Dean replied, but he wasn't really. This was one of the most physically and mentally exhausting things he had ever done, and twice in one week, with too little sleep and his nerves on edge only made it all the worse. He had to force the despair and the helpless feeling to give up aside and just do the job. Cas would have done it for him and after everything the angel had already done for him, this was the least he could do in return.

"Get me a bowl of warm water," he told Sam and picked up a cloth and some tweezers and set to the tedious task. Wordlessly Sam brought him a chair so he wouldn't have to bend over the whole time and Dean gratefully sank into it, glad of the support of his brother at his back. Sam may not have been in any condition to help with the patching up, but he wiped the sweat from Dean's face and massaged the cramps from his shoulders and back that were brought on more and more frequently as the tedious work went on.

Finally, Dean had picked all the fibers out and then washed the wounds out with peroxide, wincing as the liquid hissed angrily. He was glad that Cas was unconscious for that. He then dabbed the wounds dry with a clean towel and spread several squares of gauze with antibiotic cream before applying them gently to the wounds. Afterward, Sam helped lift Cas while Dean wrapped his entire upper body with bandages.

"Okay," he said with a sigh of relief now that it was all done. "Let's get him into bed. You think you can help me carry him?"

Sam nodded. "Just give me his feet so I don't accidently drop him head first."

They lifted Cas as gently as possible between them and carried him to the room they'd had him in before. There was some shuffling as Sam turned back the blankets and then they finally lowered Cas down. Sam went to grab some clean clothes as Dean removed Cas' bloodstained pants and shoes and dressed him instead in sweats and one of Sam's t-shirts that would be loose enough so as not to rub his wounds. Dean decided to keep him on his side and propped pillows against his chest and back so he couldn't roll over and hurt himself, before he piled multiple blankets on top of him. Dean pressed a hand to Cas' forehead to check for fever but instead found him slightly clammy. He didn't know what to do though, besides keep him warm and comfortable.

"I don't care how glamorous they make it look on TV, Sammy, I never want to be a surgeon," Dean told his brother sincerely.

"I don't blame you," Sam replied sympathetically. "By the way, you look like crap, worse actually."

"I could use a shower," Dean admitted. Not to mention several weeks of sleep. He nodded to Cas. "Keep an eye on him?"

Sam nodded and Dean went across the hall to his room to grab some fresh clothes before he hit the showers. He peeled off his blood-spattered clothing and wondered whether he shouldn't just burn them before he stepped into the shower.

He stayed under the hot water for a long time, wishing he could wash away the memories of everything that had happened that day along with the blood and sweat. He just simply wasn't sure what to feel. In some ways, he was shocked, awed even, that Cas had gone so far to protect him, and in others, he was angry that the angel had sacrificed himself. It was just something Dean wasn't used to, didn't normally allow. When it came to Sam, Dean was always the one who stepped in front of him, who made sure his little brother didn't have to die for his own mistakes, and it had always been like that. Dean had certainly never had anyone protect him in the way Cas had, not even his own father. Of course he and Sam would die for each other as they had proved on multiple occasions, but it was different. He was still the older brother and there was an hierarchy there. Truthfully, Dean just didn't see himself as important enough to sacrifice the people he loved for his own life.

He shut off the water and dried off, dressing in clean clothes and headed to grab something to eat. He felt nauseous, but he hadn't eaten for almost two days, so he figured he should try to put something in his stomach.

As he crossed back through the dormitory wing, he peeked in on Cas again, half hoping he was conscious and half hoping he stayed out for a while longer to save him from the pain, but it wasn't Cas who caught his eye as he looked into the room, but Sam.

He found Sam sprawled on the floor next to the bed, completely unconscious and looking like the living dead. Had he looked that bad before? Dean had been so focused on Cas he hadn't really noticed.

Dean hurried forward and fell to his knees next to his little brother, looking around for an assailant, but there wasn't one. As he reached out to grab Sam's face between his hands, he was shocked at how hot he was. He was burning from fever, worse than Dean had ever felt before. It was far above what was healthy.

"Sammy? Oh no, you can't do this, not now, come on, man," Dean pleaded, patting his cheeks gently, and giving him a shake, but Sam was unresponsive.

"Dammit," Dean spat, and stood, trying to drag Sam's limp figure up with him, but his brother was even more of a lump than Cas and he could only drag him to his room where he threw him onto the bed, ripping off his flannel shirt before he ran to the kitchen, practically emptying their entire freezer out and going back to throw the contents onto Sam—frozen waffles, a bag of peas, ice cream, anything he could find that was cold, not even bothering to think how weird it would look packed around his brother's body. He then ran and grabbed the thermometer. It beeped all too quickly after he had forced it under Sam's tongue.

"108?" Dean cursed. "The hell? Sam why didn't you tell me you felt that bad?" Of course, because the idiot would have been more worried about Cas, that was why. "Okay, we need to get this down."

He hurried into the bathroom. There was one bathtub in the bunker, which he was thankful for now, and he quickly filled it with cold water as he dashed back to the freezer and grabbed all the ice they had, which wasn't much but he hoped it would be enough. He knew this was going to be anything but pleasant for Sam, but he didn't know what else to do. The fever had to come down and fast, and Dean couldn't get to a hospital right now, not with Cas lying half dead in the other room, and who-knew-what going on in Sam's body due to the Trials.

He hurried back into Sam's room and grabbed his burning body under the arms, trying to drag him as gently as possible across the hall before he unceremoniously lowered him into the bathtub, cursing the whole time. Why was it that everything always had to happen at once? Couldn't he just fix one thing before another had to break?

He submerged Sam's long limbs in the tub, and bathed his face and head with a washcloth, supporting the back of Sam's head with one hand so he couldn't drown. "Come on, Sammy," he pleaded, peeling back one eyelid, worried the fever might be cooking his brother's brains.

He almost yelled in surprise as Sam suddenly jolted back to consciousness, flailing and gasping for breath, his hands latching onto Dean, as the elder Winchester bent over to reassure him.

"Dean!" Sam cried.

"Easy, easy," Dean coaxed, but couldn't stop a wet little brother slipping out of the tub and practically into his lap, causing him to fall backward onto his butt.

"Woah, dude, calm down," he said.

"Wha' happened?" Sam gasped, looking up in bewilderment at his brother.

Dean gently extracted himself from Sam and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around the other man's shivering frame and rubbing his hair dry for him. "Your fever hit 108, Sammy, I found you passed out on the floor. I had to force it down. Why didn't you tell me it was that bad? I'm surprised you weren't seizing."

Sam shivered and was too weak to protest as Dean took his temperature again, thankful it was back at a manageable 102.5. He slumped in relief and got to his feet.

"Okay, you're good for now, but let's get you some dry clothes and then you are staying in bed, you hear me?"

Sam sighed. "Okay, fine."

Dean gave him a withering look as he reached down to pull Sam to his feet, wincing as his brother's sopping figure leaned against him again. The fact that Sam wasn't protesting told Dean all he needed to know about his condition. Dean led him back to his room and helped him change into dry clothes before tucking him in with more medicine and a cool sheet instead of heavy blankets. Sam looked at him with a frown as he saw the contents of their freezer in his bed. Dean shrugged. "I had to use what I could find on short notice. You can have the ice cream since you melted it with your lava boy heat, I'll put the rest away and get you a spoon."

Sam gladly dug into the ice cream while Dean shoved all the soggy frozen food back into the freezer before going back to check on Sam.

"Okay, you just rest, you hear me, Sammy? I've got two invalids to look after now and I can only be in one place at a time. So you need something, you call, okay? Don't try to do it yourself."

"Okay," Sam said resignedly, even though his eyes were already drooping shut. He had that kind of loopy look he always got when he was on cold medicine, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief at the sight. He took the ice cream carton from Sam's drooping hands and mussed the kid's spectacular bedhead.

"Go to sleep, Sammy," he said quietly and was rewarded with a small grunt before Sam seemed to fall into a deep sleep. Dean figured the kid probably hadn't slept the whole time he and Cas were gone—no wonder he had worn himself down into such a bad state.

Dean sighed, feeling the utter weariness wash over his whole body, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. He really hoped the worse was behind them.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean halfheartedly poured himself a bowl of cereal, almost too tired to eat, but his stomach was churning from anxiety among other things—one of which probably was hunger—so he thought putting something in there would help.

The corn flakes tasted like dust but he ate them anyway, and then lowered his heavy head onto his folded arms, figuring he would just close his eyes for a few minutes…

A nightmare plagued him. Cas had died on the table in the surgery while Dean tried to repair his injuries and Sam was dying in a corner, coughing his lungs up, and there was so much blood, soaking Dean's clothes and sticking his feet to the floor and he couldn't help anyone. He was worthless. And then the scene changed so that he was back in hell, and Alastair was standing beside him, motioning to the rack where the current victim was covered in a cloth.

"This one is special," the demon informed him. "I expect you to do a good job."

And then he pressed the razor into Dean's hand and pulled back the bloody cloth obviously anticipating Dean's reaction as he saw who was under there. Dean looked down at the victim. Cas' blue eyes stared back at him.

Dean jerked awake, heart pounding and trying to take deep breaths to calm himself. His hand trembled, clenched into a fist as if still gripping Alastair's knife. He forced it open and ran the hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to rid himself of the vivid images. It had been a while since he dreamed of hell. He grabbed his phone from the table beside him and saw that he had been asleep for nearly three hours. He groaned and got up from the hard chair, rubbing his back ruefully. He needed to check on Cas and Sam.

He went first to the angel's room. He had left the lamp on so Cas wouldn't wake up in the dark and he saw instantly that Cas still hadn't moved a muscle. He was still sandwiched between the two pillows that kept him from rolling either onto his back or his stomach. Dean laid the back of his hand against Cas' temple and found that the angel's skin was still clammy. There was no change at all from before. He sighed in disappointment and turned down the blankets to check the bandages. There were a few spots on his back where blood had seeped through, but besides that, he wasn't bleeding out or anything. That was something at least. Dean carefully tucked the blankets back around Cas' shoulders, making sure he stayed warm.

Then he heard the sound of wet coughing coming from the next room and hurried over to check on Sam. The younger Winchester was attempting to sit up, coughing so hard he sounded like he was drowning. Dean hurried over and sat on the bed, pulling Sam upright.

"Hey, hey, take it easy, kiddo, just breathe," he murmured soothingly, bracing one arm across Sam's chest to hold him upright while rubbing his back. Sam was still fevered and Dean realized with a sinking feeling that it was climbing again. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a tissue for Sam to cough into and tried not to panic as he saw all the blood the cough produced. Sam didn't seem to be able to get enough air into his lungs and Dean wished there was something he could do, but really, he could only offer support as they waited for the spell to end.

"Easy, Sammy, I got ya." He wiped the blood from Sam's mouth, patting his back gently as Sam finally took several deep shuddering breaths, falling limply against his brother, his head resting on Dean's shoulder. Dean didn't even call him out on chick-flick moments, he just brought up a hand to smooth through Sam's matted hair until the younger Winchester's breathing evened out. It didn't stop Dean from hearing the rattle of his lungs though, as if he had pneumonia. Dean's arms tightened around his brother hoping Sam didn't realize how scared he was seeing him getting worse every day. Dean would take it all away in a heartbeat if he could but Sam had chosen this and there wasn't anything they could do about it now.

Eventually, he laid Sam back down and propped him up with several more pillows, hoping it would be easier for him to breathe. Sam moaned, his eyes flickering open.

"Hey," Dean called softly, bending over as Sam's bleary eyes tried to find his face. "Your fever's going up again, kiddo. You think you can manage to take some more meds?"

Sam gave a nod and Dean went to the bathroom and filled a cup with water as well as a bowl, which he tossed several cloths into. He forced a couple Tylenol into Sam as well as some cough syrup, which was really only wishful thinking, and then rung out a couple of the washcloths, laying one over Sam's forehead and using the other to bathe his neck. Sam moaned and tried to kick off his blankets. Dean helped and then yanked Sam's sweat-soaked t-shirt off too so he could lay another cloth over his chest.

"Hot," Sam muttered, shifting uncomfortably against the pillows.

Dean pushed the matted hair away from Sam's face and neck and applied the cloth. "You know, it might help if you let me cut this mop off your head."

"Jerk," Sam whispered, one side of his mouth turning up slightly.

"Bitch," Dean replied gently. If nothing else, the Trials had seemed to help them work past their differences and become brothers again. Even though Dean still felt that Sam had taken it upon himself because he felt guilty for leaving Dean in Purgatory. Just like Cas protecting him from Naomi after beating the crap out of Dean in the crypt. Yeah, Dean was going to have to have a long talk with both of the idiots when this was all over. Providing any of them survived.

For the moment, though, he was just going to take care of his brother because that's what he could do.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere in Castiel's subconscious he heard a voice. It was familiar, though unwelcome, but he couldn't remember why. He didn't want to answer it, but it was so persistent and he thought that if he did, he might be able to sink back into the dark comfort of unconsciousness.

Who is this? he asked.

It's Naomi, Castiel, I need you to do something for me.

Naomi, he didn't like Naomi even if he wasn't sure why just then, but he found himself answering her anyway.

What do you need me to do?

First, get out of bed, then go open the entrance door. I'm waiting there for you.

A very bad feeling was starting to come over Castiel, he wanted to refuse, wanted to tell her no, maybe add a sarcastic comment like Dean would in the situation—Dean…There was something about Naomi and Dean, Naomi telling Castiel something about the hunter. Something he didn't like. Why couldn't he remember anything?

Again, he found himself answering her automatically, before his brain could tell him no. I'll be there.

His eyes opened. He suddenly felt very grounded. The conversation had happened while he was still unconscious, but now he was very much awake, and very much not in a dream state. He could tell because his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. He looked around, seeing he was in one of the bedrooms in the bunker. Someone had piled a whole stack of blankets onto him and squished him between two pillows for some reason. He frowned, shoving the pillow in front of him off the bed, and tried to swing his legs over the side. He didn't know why he was getting up, he really didn't want to. His body was aching everywhere and his head felt fuzzy and confused as if his thoughts weren't working right. Like most of them had been locked up or something.

But his body was moving almost against his will, and he knew he had to get up for some reason.

Castiel staggered out of the bed, the concrete floor cold under his bare feet. He looked down at himself and saw he was dressed in soft pants and a too-large t-shirt. His chest also felt very tight and there were twinges of pain in his back and stomach. Upon exploration, he discovered his whole upper body was covered in bandages. He frowned, unable to remember being injured. There was a pain in his head as he tried to remember and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Hurry, Castiel! A voice snapped inside his head, startling him. Come open the door.

"N-no," he shook his head, then crumpled to his knees with a choked yelp as a piercing pain spiked behind his eyes.

Now, Castiel!

He rose to his feet, moving against his will and left the room, walking down the hall to the main room of the bunker, past the map table and up the metal stairs to the front entrance. Somewhere in his mind he knew he shouldn't be doing this, knew it was a terrible idea and that he needed to stop, but he couldn't.

He reached for the handle and pulled the door open with a screech. On the other side stood an angel he instantly recognized as Naomi. He knew he should slam the door in her face, but couldn't. Pain spiked through his head again as he tried it and then everything was blank and numb, and he couldn't remember why he had been upset just a moment before.

Naomi smiled at him. "Hello, Castiel. I have a job for you to finish for me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was just exchanging the wet cloths that covered Sam for new cool ones when he heard the front door creak open. He stopped what he was doing.

"You hear that?" he asked Sam.

"What?" his brother mumbled, mostly delirious.

"Stay here," Dean told him, standing up from where he had been sitting on the side of the bed, and instinctively reaching for his gun in the back of his waistband before he remembered he didn't have it. He had left all his weapons in the Impala, being more worried about getting Cas taken care of than collecting all their stuff, especially when they were in the safety of the bunker. He was so tired he was getting rusty.

He cursed and grabbed Sam's gun from his bedside table.

"Dean?" Sam asked cautiously.

"Just…hang tight, I'm gonna check this out." He went cautiously out into the hallway, gun held ready. He peeked quickly into Cas' room, just to make sure the angel was okay, but was shocked to see he was gone. The blankets were thrown back and Cas wasn't anywhere in the room.

Afraid the angel might be trying to leave because he thought for some reason he was too much trouble or was still feeling guilty about what had happened to Dean, the hunter hurriedly raced out of the dormitory ward, shoving the gun into the back of his jeans.

"Cas?" he called. "Cas are you here?"

He came out into the war room, and saw Cas standing by the bottom of the stairs, his back to Dean. The hunter breathed a sigh of relief and crossed the room to the angel.

"Cas, man, are you okay?" he asked. "You shouldn't be up with those injuries, come back to bed."

He touched Cas' shoulder and turned him around to face him, and was slightly unnerved to see his blank, hard expression. Dean frowned, was Cas sleepwalking or something? He waved a hand in front of the angel's face.

"Cas? Talk to me, buddy."

"He won't respond unless I want him to."

Dean spun around to see Naomi stride into the room. He instantly put himself between her and Cas, snatching the gun up and leveling it at her face.

"You know that won't do anything," Naomi said with a dismissive flick of her wrist, which sent the gun flying out of Dean's hand to skitter over the floor.

"What are you doing here? How'd you even find this place?" Dean demanded, though even as he said that, he knew, in the twisting of his gut, what the answer was.

Naomi gave a small smile. "Despite the warding this place has, I can still reach Castiel now that he doesn't have the tablet anymore. Especially since he's so weak right now. It was easy to find the location and get him to let me in."

"Yeah, it would make sense an evil bitch like you needs to be invited in like Dracula," Dean quipped.

"I just came to claim what was mine," Naomi said. "Castiel must come back to heaven. But I will leave your brother alone if you stand down."

"Yeah, not gonna happen," Dean snapped at her. "'Cause, news flash, Cas is kind of our brother too, and if you think I'm gonna let you take him back for another lobotomy, you're wrong."

"I believe you misunderstand me, Dean," Naomi said in a falsely reasonable voice. "I only want to help Castiel. It's not my fault he misunderstood my intentions."

Dean laughed. "Oh really? I think he understood just fine. I saw you back there when you were carving your precious tablet out of his body. You didn't care about him at all, you didn't even bother to heal him, you just left him there to die! And you wonder why he decided to go team human."

Naomi scowled. "You are very insolent for someone whose life in hanging in the balance."

Dean winked at her. "Yeah, that's kind of my style, sweetheart."

"I will admit that sparing Sam is necessary," Naomi said distastefully. "He is so close to finishing these Trials, and closing hell would be a good deed to start repairing the many bad he has done. But you, Dean." She stepped toward him and Dean only backed up, pushing Cas with him, until they were both pressed back against the stair railing. "You are nothing but a complication, a thorn in my side, and there is no reason I have to spare you."

Dean smiled at her. "Well that does put a damper on our relationship, doesn't it?"

"Castiel," Naomi commanded and Dean suddenly felt hands in the back of his shirt as he was thrown several yards across the room.

He skidded to a stop against one wall and looked up as Cas strode purposefully toward him, an angel blade in his hand.

"Cas!" Dean shouted, seeing exactly what was going on. "Cas, fight her, she's in your head again!"

The angel didn't seem to hear him, only reached over and yanked Dean up by the front of his shirt before smashing the hilt of the angel blade into his face, and bringing a knee up into his stomach. Dean doubled over, gasping for air, but didn't get a chance to pull any into his lungs before Cas was throwing him again, this time to land on top of the map table.

"Cas, this isn't you," Dean gasped out as the angel held him with one hand clenched in his shirt and raised the angel blade with the other. Pain burst through his head again as Cas slammed the pommel of the blade into his cheek. "You gotta fight her, Cas."

Cas' only reply was to hit Dean again before yanking him onto the floor. Dean groaned and tried to curl up, but Cas kicked him onto his back, just standing there, staring at him for a moment, no emotion whatsoever on his face.

"Cas, please," Dean said quietly, looking up into his friend's eyes that didn't seem to register anything at all. He swallowed hard, trying what he had last time, pleading. "We're family, remember?"

"Finish him, Castiel!" Naomi snapped.

Cas suddenly straddled Dean's hips to hold him down, gripping a handful of Dean's collar as he readied the blade.

"Cas, no," Dean pleaded, reaching up and gripping the angel's wrist. "You don't want to do this. It's Naomi making you do it, you can't let her control you anymore!" He had been able to break Naomi's contact with Cas before back in the crypt, this couldn't be any different, could it? Dean tried to meet Cas' eyes, tried to get through to him. In the crypt, Cas had been able to break her hold several times before he touched the tablet, if Dean could just get him to see where he was, what he was doing, he was sure that Cas would be able to snap out of it. "Come on, man, this isn't you!"

"Castiel!" Naomi yelled.

Dean grunted as Cas started to force the blade toward him. The hunter gripped his arm with both hands now, knowing he was only holding him off because Cas was so weak right now. He had to try harder to get through to him. He couldn't allow Cas to be the one to put the blade through his heart. The beating he had given Dean in the crypt had left the angel full of guilt and regret, Dean didn't want to know what it would do to Cas knowing he had been the one to kill his friend. "Cas, man, it's Dean. I know you don't really want to do this. I know somewhere in there you're fighting. Come on, Sammy needs us both, remember? I need you, Cas, I can't take care of him alone, you know I'm not strong enough." He winced as he said it, knowing it was the truth, and berating himself for saying it out loud, but if it would help…

"You're the only family we have left, Cas, we can't lose you too." A tear slid unbidden down Dean's cheek.

Cas' eyes seemed to waver. He blinked, a frown appearing between his eyes and was actually looking at Dean again. The force of his sword arm slackened as a look of horror washed over his face, his chest shuddering slightly.

"Cas?" Dean whispered, only half hoping.

"What are you doing?" Naomi demanded, striding over to Castiel. "Finish him, Castiel! You've already failed once, do not fail me again!"

Cas blinked and the blank expression came back, making Dean's heart sink. The angel only put more pressure on the blade, and Dean grunted as he tried to force it away from him, the tip now digging into his chest.

"Cas!" he yelled. "Fight her!" As a last resort he brought his knee up into Cas' back, cringing as it connected. "Snap out of it!"

The pain from the blow seemed to shake Cas' concentration a bit, and he gave a small grunt. Dean gripped his wrist tighter, trying to get through to him.

"Cas, listen to me, she has a hold of you, Naomi does, you can't let her win."

"Dean?" Cas whispered.

"Castiel!" Naomi snarled.

"No," Cas ground out, his arm shuddering in Dean's grip. He almost crumpled, eyes squeezing shut as if in pain. Dean watched as blood dripped from the corners of his eyes, tracking down his face like tears.

"Kill him!" Naomi screamed.

Dean yelped as the blade lowered again suddenly, digging into his chest, but he wasn't the only one fending it off this time. Cas still had his eyes shut but he was fighting, Dean could tell. Suddenly Cas heaved a huge breath and gave a wordless yell as he lurched to his feet, leaving Dean lying, limp with relief, on his back.

"No," the angel said again, shaking his head. "I won't."

Naomi was furious, striding over to Cas again. "You will do what I command, Castiel!" she screamed.

Castiel's eyes turned steely again, but this time, Dean knew it wasn't directed at him. Naomi reached him and clamped a hand over his shoulder, raising her other hand as if to slap him.

Cas didn't hesitate. He swung around and shoved the blade into Naomi's stomach. She gasped in shock, grabbing Cas' shoulder to stay upright. Cas grabbed her around the waist, and his lip actually curled in disgust. "This is for all of our brothers and sisters you tortured, Naomi," he growled, then leaned close to her ear. "I'm not your bitch anymore." Then he angled the blade up into her heart and Naomi screamed as light burst from her eyes as her grace burned out.

Dean covered his eyes from the blaze and when it was gone, he looked up to see Cas dropping Naomi's body indifferently to the ground. Dean pulled himself to his feet, wincing slightly at the bruised ribs and reaching up to wipe off some blood that was running from his nose. Most of it had gone down the back of his throat though.

"Cas?" he asked softly.

The angel was looking at his bloody angel blade before he set it on the table, still not turning around. Dean could see blood seeping through the back of his shirt from his injuries, probably only worsened by the fact Dean had to jam his knee into them to break the spell. He swallowed hard; at least it had worked.

"Are you okay, Dean?" the angel finally asked, his back still facing the hunter.

"I'll live," Dean replied and stepped forward as Cas wavered on his feet and gripped the edge of the table. "Question is, will you? You look like crap," he added wryly, stepping over to his friend.

"I'm—I'm all right," Cas tried before he legs buckled and Dean caught him under the arms and lowered him to the floor. "I'm sorry. My…legs don't seem to want to work anymore."

"It's okay, buddy, we'll get you back to bed, come on." He helped pull Cas to his feet again, careful not to put any pressure on his back, and started him down the hall to the dormitory ward. He noticed Cas was reluctant to touch him or look at him, only tolerating Dean's support because he had no choice, and Dean knew this was going to have to be addressed soon—and this time they really needed to have a talk. But right now, he was just too exhausted and he still had to see to Cas' wounds again.

"Dean," Cas said quietly after several longs seconds of silence. "I'm sorry."

"Cas, it wasn't you," Dean said, then sighed, remembering their earlier discussion on the one-sided fight in the crypt. "We'll talk about this later, okay? I promise this time. We got a lot to talk about."

Cas sighed, but nodded. "Alright."

"Dean!" Sam was standing—well, leaning—against the wall next to his room when Dean and Cas got back to the dormitory wing. It looked like the younger Winchester had been on his way to help out with what had been going on, a spare pistol in his hand, but hadn't gotten very far. His eyes widened as he saw the new bruises on Dean's face and the blood on Cas' clothes. "What happened?"

"I'll tell you in the morning, Sammy," Dean replied wearily. "Go back to bed before you shoot yourself in the foot."

"Dean's right, Sam, you should be resting," Cas told the younger man sincerely.

Sam set his jaw, but couldn't really protest since he could hardly stand upright, so he made his way slowly back into his room. Dean watched him to make sure he made it and then maneuvered Cas back to the angel's room where he lowered him onto the bed.

"Okay, let me check your wounds, you probably popped a few stitches," Dean told him, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

Cas reluctantly allowed him to help slip the t-shirt off, and then the bandages, which were stuck with dried blood and peeled off painfully. It wasn't as bad as Dean had feared. He had popped two sutures on the wound in his stomach and his back had been agitated in a few places besides where Dean's knee had connected, which caused it to bleed again. After he had helped Cas wipe the blood off his face, he had the angel lay down on a few towels and started to repair the damage.

The whole time, neither of them spoke, until Cas finally said, "Dean, is it all right if I close my eyes for a while?"

Dean swallowed hard. "Yeah, Cas."

The angel promptly shut his eyes, leaving Dean to work in silence, wondering how they were going to deal with what had just happened on top of everything else? Why could they never just catch a break?

 


	7. Chapter 7

Dean checked in on Sam one last time after taking care of Cas, making sure his brother was doing okay, then promptly crossed the hall to his room, leaving the door open so he could hear if Cas or Sam needed him, and then plopped onto the bed and was out within a second of hitting the pillow. He didn't even care that Naomi's body was still lying in their war room, he would take care of that tomorrow. He just needed to get some sleep.

He woke feeling stiff and sore, but rested at least. He hauled himself from bed, and realized he hadn't even bothered to change his clothes before he conked out the night before. There was some dried blood on them. He quickly grabbed a fresh change of clothes and wasted no time in getting into the shower.

Once he was clean he peeked into Sam's room, seeing the younger Winchester wasn't in bed. Frowning, he checked Cas' room next and found Sam there, sitting in a chair beside the angel's bed, a huge tome in his lap and several more stacked beside his feet, in the process of discussing something with Cas.

"Hey," Dean called as he stepped into the room, and two pairs of eyes turned to meet him. Sam's accompanied by a small, tired smile and Cas' turning away slightly. Dean chose to ignore that. "You two doing okay?"

"Well enough," Sam shrugged. He still looked bad and pretty sleep deprived, but that was kind of the norm lately. He didn't look fevered at least. "Cas and I were just looking into a few more resources to see what we could dig up on the Trials and-or Metatron."

"We've still determined that Colorado is a good place to start," Cas added, his eyes trained on the book in Sam's lap even though he was talking to Dean.

"Well, we'll head over there again as soon as we get a couple days to rest up," Dean replied. "I don't know about you two, but I could use a little R&R after the week we've had. Speaking of, anyone up for some coffee?"

"That would be great, I'll come with you," Sam said, standing up—still a bit shaky, but at least able to walk in a straight line today. "I was gonna get some breakfast anyway. We'll bring you a cup, Cas."

Dean knew Sam wanted to talk to him about something, and wished the kid had at least waited until he had gotten some caffeine into his system, but Sam started in on him before he even measured the water for the coffee.

"You need to talk to Cas, man. He's feeling horrible about last night," Sam told his brother.

"He say anything to you?" Dean asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Well, I was kinda out of it last night so I asked him what happened," Sam shrugged. "He didn't really come out and say he felt guilty, but it's obvious. And your face looks pretty bad, by the way."

Dean sighed, having forgotten the bruises on his face would probably bother Cas, but there wasn't anything he could do about that. He wasn't about to let Cas use any more energy to heal him, even just a few bruises. "I know. We do need to talk. I just don't really know what to say without sounding like a total dick."

Sam huffed and shook his head. "Just talk to him, dude. I know things have been a little shaky between you two for a while, but he's still your best friend, you owe that much at least."

"I know." Dean watched the coffee gurgle into the pot as Sam turned and started rummaging through the pantry.

"We hardly have anything to eat," the younger Winchester said. "There's half of an old leftover burrito and some mustard in the fridge." He turned and pulled a nearly empty bag off the counter. "And end slices."

"I'll run and get some supplies after coffee," Dean said quickly.

"Dude, you're just using it as an excuse," Sam said.

"What, we need food! And there's no way you're driving in your condition," Dean told him, pouring his cup of coffee and sipping it gratefully. He wasn't hungry enough for dry cereal or end slices, so he just gulped the coffee and left for the store, ignoring Sam's laser stare pinned to the back of his head.

Yeah, he was using it as an excuse, Sam was right. Dean hated to admit it, but he really had no idea what he was going to say to Cas. He didn't know how to make the angel not feel guilty, and still not feel guilty himself. Cas was obviously avoiding him as much as he could, and Dean realized he was kind of doing the same thing. Maybe Cas was just as anxious about their much-needed talk as he was. Maybe he needed Dean to approach him first and in that case, if Dean failed to do so, then what? Would Cas just leave without a word like he had before? Dean couldn't let that happen. Naomi might be dead, but there were still plenty of angels out there gunning for him, and Crowley too if he decided he needed someone as leverage to get Sam to stop the Trials. Dean was disgusted that he was apparently such a coward that he was practically willing to lose Cas again just to avoid talking.

"All this touchy-feely crap is gonna kill me," he muttered to the bread as he grabbed a loaf and headed up to the check out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel gratefully drank the coffee Sam brought to him. While caffeine didn't really effect him, he found he had acquired the taste during his time with the Winchesters. It was a human vice he could accept falling for. In fact, he much preferred a good cup of coffee to liquor of any kind. And it was warming and comforting, which is what he needed then. His wounds still ached, though he could now feel his grace sluggishly healing them, and they were not the most troubling thing he had to deal with. He was hurting more mentally for the fact that he had allowed Naomi to get into his head again, and use him against Dean. After all the time he had spent trying to run from her, to keep himself protected from her manipulation, he had failed and Dean had been hurt again. Of course it could have been worse; he had been able to stop himself before he did the elder Winchester too much damage, but what if he hadn't? He was incredibly glad that angels didn't dream even while they were unconscious, because his mind had already been plagued by images of himself pinning Dean to the floor, his blade hovering over him. Castiel knew that if he hadn't been so weakened from his wounds, Dean never would have been able to hold him off. It would have been so easy to bury that blade in the hunter's heart…

"Cas?"

The angel started and looked up at Sam's concerned face. He realized he had been gripping his half full coffee mug with shaking hands as he gazed pensively into the dark liquid. He quickly set it aside before he spilled it. It had long gone cold anyway.

"Are you okay?" the younger Winchester ventured.

"I'm…fine," Castiel replied. Typical Winchester avoidance, he realized with some amusement.

Sam obviously saw it for what it was, and tactfully played along. "If you're in pain, we can try some Tylenol or something. It might help."

"Thank you, Sam, but I doubt it would do anything. My wounds are healing, it is just a very slow process."

"We should probably change your bandages," Sam said decisively, and closed the book he had been reading.

Castiel sighed, but nodded, allowing Sam to help him sit up and unwrap the bandages from his chest. Castiel grit his teeth as some of the ones on his back stuck to the dried blood and pulled when they came off.

"Well, they do look better than they did yesterday," Sam admitted, seeming relieved. "There's only a few really bad open spots on your back, and I think we could probably take the stitches out of the stomach wound tomorrow if you keep healing this well."

"That's good," Castiel replied. He would be leaving as soon as he had enough energy back to fly. Finish healing himself somewhere in seclusion where he wouldn't be a danger to the Winchesters. Dean hadn't been unkind to him, but Castiel knew it must be hard to look at the person who had beaten you nearly to death, then almost killed himself protecting you, only to beat you again. He believed that's what the humans called "mixed messages". He didn't want to put another burden on Dean's shoulders now and he was afraid that if he stayed too long the other angels would find him there, especially now with Naomi's death on his head.

"Cas," Sam said after a while as he put new gauze spread with antibiotic cream onto the wounds on Castiel's back. "You know Dean doesn't blame you for what happened, right?"

Castiel sighed. "He would have every right to."

"But he knew it wasn't you," Sam said earnestly.

"I still opened the door. I let her in," Castiel said ruefully.

"Yeah, but she was controlling you. We all know you would have stabbed her on sight if she hadn't been. She knew that too, otherwise she wouldn't have taken the precautions she did."

Castiel was silent as Sam rewrapped his chest and then went to get him a zip-up sweatshirt that would be easier to take on and off before helping him lay down in a comfortable position. The younger Winchester took up his book again and resumed his seat in the chair.

"Sam, you should be resting, you don't have to stay here with me," Castiel said with a frown, unable to help being touched by his friend's devotion even though he wished Sam would work on taking better care of himself.

Sam gave him a quick smile. "I can't rest when there's all this work to be done. I'm not delirious at the moment, which is a plus, and I just…I need to do this. I need to end these Trials, Cas. I can't let Kevin's death be in vain, and Dean…he can't take much more of this. He's hardly eating and I think last night was the first time he's gotten more than three hours sleep together in weeks."

Castiel furrowed his brow with a nod. "It pains him to see you suffering."

Sam swallowed hard. "I know. I try to hide it, but there's only so much I can do. I mean, even now, I feel like I'm starving but nauseous, my whole body aches, and I'm freezing and hot at the same time, but it's worse than a fever. Researching, figuring out the last Trial, that's the only thing that gets my mind off of it. Figuring out how to end this is what keeps me going. I can't just lay in bed and wait for something to happen."

Castiel nodded. "I understand. This…convalescing is rather tiresome, isn't it?"

Sam chuckled slightly. "Yeah, it sure is." He reached to the bedside table and pulled a file from a pile of research he had stacked there. "If you don't want to sleep, how about you help me take a look at Kevin's notes? Maybe you can make more sense of them than I can."

Castiel gratefully accepted the file and spread the papers out in front of him on the bed. After a few minutes of him and Sam puzzling over them, he realized that having something to concentrate on really did help put his mind at ease.

They had been at it for nearly an hour by the time they heard Dean return, clanking down the metal stairs and rustling around in the kitchen for a few minutes putting stuff away before he headed toward them down the hall and popped his head in the room.

"Hey." His eyes flickered cautiously over Castiel and the angel tried not to turn his eyes down this time, even though it was hard to see the bruises he had left on Dean's face. "I got stuff for sandwiches, if you guys want some."

"Thanks," Sam said and cast a meaningful look toward his brother that Castiel realized, uncomfortably, probably had something to do with him.

Dean looked away from his brother to the wall. "I, uh, need to go get rid of Naomi's body. Bury it out back, I guess." He left before Sam could say anything.

The younger Winchester seemed slightly perturbed by that, but he turned back to Castiel.

"How about we break for lunch? I'll make you a grilled cheese," Sam offered kindly.

Castiel shrugged in reply, figuring it wouldn't hurt to try and eat. It might help him recover some strength if he was utilizing more of his vessel. However, he considered that leaving sooner than he had planned might be a better idea. If Dean couldn't stand being in the same room as him, then it was probably best he leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean spent the better part of the afternoon burying the body and scrubbing the blood and the scorch marks from Naomi's wings off the floor. Then he quickly retreated outside to tinker on the Impala. Tomorrow, he promised himself, tomorrow he would talk to Cas. He just needed time to think about what to say. Yeah, right, the wait was really just making it all worse, but yet he couldn't quite make himself walk back inside and start the conversation. Maybe after a few beers he would work up the confidence.

But after the six-pack he had put in the cooler was gone, and Baby was shiny inside and out, he still couldn't decide what to say to Cas. Why was it so hard for him to talk to people? Especially people he cared about, and especially when the topics included tough subjects. A psychologist would probably have a heyday with him and his avoidance of emotional topics, but whatever. He just wasn't good at it.

What he was good at was avoidance. By the time he got back into the bunker, he found Sam sitting in the library scowling at him over his pile of research.

"Cas is resting," he younger brother told him.

Dean tried to shrug. "Good. He needs to rest. Get his strength back."

Sam sighed and slammed the book in front of him shut. "Dude, you promised him you would talk. I may have been out of it last night but I heard that."

"You would hear that," Dean muttered as he went over to the bar on the side of the room and poured some bourbon from the decanter. "Sammy, I'm trying to make sense of this in my own head before I talk to Cas. The last thing I want to do is say the wrong thing and make the situation worse than it already is."

"Dean, Cas doesn't need you to put on freakin' kid gloves for him, he just needs you to care enough to sit down and talk!" Sam replied, exasperated, before he cast a glance toward the dormitory wing, and lowered his voice. "He needs to know you don't blame him for what happened, and you're never going to convince him of that if you can't even stay in a room with him for more than two minutes!"

Dean slumped at the table and tossed back the liquor. "What do you want me to do, Sam? Magically become Dr. Phil? This kind of crap doesn't exactly come naturally to everyone, you know."

"Whatever," Sam replied, standing up. "I'm not gonna hold your hand or force you to do it, but Cas is my friend too, and I don't like seeing him suffer because my brother is a dick." He walked out of the room, and Dean was left sitting alone.

He sighed and got up to refill his glass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel had dozed off after helping Sam with the research, and when he woke, he could tell it was the middle of the night, for the bunker was quiet and dark. He sat up carefully, finding it wasn't quite as painful as before, but knowing his wounds weren't anywhere near healed enough for flying—their escape had nearly killed him. A tentative stretch of his wings told him that much. Even though they weren't on the same plain of existence, his back screamed in agony at even a twitch of feathers. It wouldn't really matter though. It wasn't a horribly long walk into town, and he would get a bus from there. He just knew that if he was going to leave, it would have to be now before the Winchesters woke up. He couldn't intrude any longer, they didn't need to be taking care of him too. He would go on by himself, heal, and then try to find some more information on Metatron for them.

Standing was a process, but he made it, and found his shoes at the foot of the bed. His torn and bloody trench coat was lying over a chair at the desk, and he swiftly put it back together. It took a little more energy than anticipated, but he couldn't leave it.

He crept as quietly as possible out to the main room, a shudder going down his spine as flashes of his one-sided fight with Dean came to him. He vaguely wondered if he should leave a note, but then decided against it. He took a deep breath and started up the metal stairs trying to keep his steps as quiet as possible, and then opened the door with a wince as it creaked. He looked out at the night for a long second. In fact, he stood there so long that he didn't notice the figure that had come to stand at the bottom of the stairs until he heard someone call his name.

"Cas?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean woke with a start to the sound of the front door opening. Again. Flashes of Naomi appearing in the bunker and Cas beating him up like a robot puppet ran through his head, and he was out of bed instantly, gun in his hand.

He peeked in at Sam and saw him snoring slightly, sprawled on his back. Then he looked into Cas' room and saw it empty, just like last time.

Heart pounding, he hurried through the bunker and out to the war room where he felt a draft of air. He looked up and saw Cas standing in the doorway, looking out into the night. For a second he imagined another angel standing there with him, or maybe Naomi come back from the dead, but it was just Cas, wearing a newly repaired trench coat. Dean put his gun down and cleared his throat.

"Cas?" he called.

The angel started slightly, and his shoulders slumped before he slowly turned around, a guilty expression on his face.

"Cas, what are you doing?" Dean asked cautiously, walking up several steps. "Close the door, dude, it's freezing."

"I—I should go, Dean," Cas told him, head still canted toward the open door. "I think it's for the best."

Dean could have punched himself. Cas was actually planning on just walking out on them, and all because of him and his inability to have a conversation with anyone.

"Cas, no," Dean told him firmly. "You don't need to go. You're hurt, you shouldn't be out there. You can't even fight; what if more angels, or Crowley, found you?"

Cas shrugged and that made Dean furious. "Close the door, we need to talk."

"That's not necessary…"

"Like hell it's not," Dean ground out, finally gaining the top of the stairs and reached past Cas to slam the door shut himself. The angel looked slightly perturbed by this, but vaguely relieved as well as if he hadn't really wanted to go. Dean bit his lip and put a hand on Cas' shoulder. "Come on, man. Let's go talk."

Cas followed him down the stairs and to the library where they sat at the table and Dean poured them each a drink. Cas ignored his, but Dean downed half in one swallow. Then he sighed and looked across the table at the angel, but before he could speak, Cas had already beaten him to it.

"Dean, what happened the other night, I'm sorry I led Naomi to you, it was never my intention."

"Cas, I know that," Dean replied. "Seriously, man, you don't need to apologize, I'm pretty sure you saved my life this week multiple times."

"I might have missed something, but you seem angry about that," Cas pointed out, a frown appearing between his brows.

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I'm not…angry, Cas. I'm just…I hate to see you and Sammy sacrifice yourself for me. I mean, he's stuck doing these Trials because I screwed up, and you almost died because you thought you had to protect me from Naomi."

Cas narrowed his eyes at him. "I didn't think I had to protect you, Dean. It's my duty to protect you and Sam. It always has been, although now it is a pleasure to do so because you are my family, and not because I was ordered to. That's why it…hurt so much, what Naomi made me do. Why it was so…unforgivable." He looked away and Dean fought to find the right words to say. He reached out and clenched a hand around Cas' forearm. The angel seemed surprised by that and raised his eyes to look at the hunter again.

"Nothing is unforgivable if it wasn't your fault, and what Naomi made you do, the other night and in the crypt was not your fault, Cas. I know that, and I'm not angry about what happened. I mean, sure I wish it could have been avoided, but it wasn't your choice. And it only really hurt me because I knew how it would effect you."

Cas mulled this over for a while. "But I am supposed to be your guardian, Dean, I'm not supposed to hurt you, you're supposed to be able to trust me."

"And I do!" Dean insisted. "Cas, both times you were able to break through Naomi's hold on you, and that couldn't be easy. But listen man, there's no reason you have to feel you're in my debt."

Cas frowned, looking genuinely confused now. "In your debt? Why would you think I felt that way?"

Dean raised his hands. "I don't know, maybe because you let that feathered dick flay the skin off your back while you pretended you were actual body armor."

Cas' expression turned stormy now. "You still think I only protected you because I thought I owed a debt? Dean, Mendiel would have killed you if I had not stopped him. Why don't you see that?"

"Because I'm not worth it, Cas!" Dean snapped.

"You're worth it to me," Cas replied firmly. "And Sam. Dean, you are a natural protector, I see that, it was one of the things that first made me believe in you, but you have to allow others to do the same for you in return. I am an angel, and though I am a poor one, I was your guardian at one time and now I am your friend. You called me a surrogate brother; well, I think of you and Sam that way as well, and I deserve the right to protect you when I see fit. I am cast out of heaven, I don't have all the power I once did, and if this is the one thing I have left that makes me feel like I can still do a little good, then you have no right to take it from me. You and Sam are all I have, and I will protect you if I damn well please!"

Dean was shocked at Cas' angry reply. His eyes, though tired, flashed in determination and Dean just stared at him for a long moment until he blinked and shook his head slowly. "Okay."

"Okay?" Cas asked skeptically, eyes narrowing. "That's all you have to say?"

"Hell, Cas," Dean said with a sigh. "I'm beat, man. Just give me that for now, all right? But I hear you, and I guess I've been…selfish, or whatever you wanna call it. And you're right. I guess I need to start thinking about what everyone else feels too."

Cas raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You must be tired."

"What can I say, no one's ever threatened to protect me before," Dean replied with a chuckle.

Cas shrugged and gave a small smile in return. "You are unbelievably stubborn."

"Yeah, well, it runs in the family." He stood up and patted Cas on the shoulder. "Now, are you gonna stay or what? Because I don't think it's a good idea to go wandering around with your injuries. Besides, Sam and I need all the help we can get with the research."

Castiel smiled. "Very well, if you need me to stay, I will." He got up stiffly and started back toward the dormitory wing.

Dean was silent for a few seconds before he caved and called Cas back. "Cas."

"Yes, Dean?"

Dean shifted on his feet. "I didn't ask you to stay because Sam and I need you. I asked you to stay because we want you here."

A light came back to Cas' eyes. "Truly?"

"Don't make this into a chick-flick moment," Dean said, but smiled. "Yeah, dude. You're family, remember? Now, I think we all need a good night's rest. We still got a Scribe of God to find, so I'll say goodnight."

Cas nodded and smiled genuinely in return. "Goodnight, Dean."

The End


End file.
